infinite
by shelivesfree
Summary: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: I'm back again with another multi-chapter Anidala story. This is basically my take on the missing moments at the end of AOTC. Consider this my Christmas gift to you all (because in Australia it is Christmas Eve today)._**

 ** _I hope you enjoy xx_**

* * *

 _I'm dead._ They're the first words Anakin Skywalker thinks when he blinks his eyes open after spending the last twenty-four hours under heavy anaesthetic. He is sure of it. He's died and gone to Heaven, or wherever it is you go once you die, because there is an Angel above him. The most beautiful angel he's ever laid eyes on. He's sure she's an angel, for her lovely features are outlined in a glorious, golden light. It takes a while for his eyes to completely focus, but when they do, he sees warm, beautiful eyes of the darkest chocolate, a tiny straight nose, high cheekbones and perfect pink lips parted to reveal the tips of pretty white teeth. Such beauty. Only an Angel could be this perfect.

She says his name, "Anakin," and it is the sweetest sound he has ever heard. It washes over him like a warm, summer breeze. He wishes he could speak, but his mouth has forgotten how to move. She has captivated him. There is a deeply worried look in her eyes that makes him want to hold her, but his body is numb. So, he simply blinks back at her.

"Ani," she says again, and he feels her weight shift as she sits down on the cot beside his limp form. A small, warm hand touches his own, real flesh one, softly, tentatively, but it is enough to cause the most powerful reaction inside him. Fire licks across where her skin touches his, shooting up his arm, right to his rapidly beating heart. His pulse pounds loudly in his ear and he is sure she can hear it. It is deafening.

When Anakin finally regains control of his mouth again, it is only to utter her name. "Padmé…" It falls from his lips like a prayer, softly, full of reverence, and his fingers twitch, desperate to close around her own. The sound of his voice brings a gorgeous smile to her face and her entire expression brightens. Anakin knows he will do anything to have her smile at him like that for the rest of his life.

"How are you feeling?" she asks as her fingers gently trace his own, delicately running over his knuckles. Her eyes flick over to his new arm, his mechanical arm, for the briefest of seconds, before they return to his face. He wonders what she thinks of his prosthetic, whether it repulses her. _It should,_ he thinks bitterly. As grateful as he is that his arm has been replaced, he wants to be nothing less than _perfect_ for her, and now he is flawed.

All he says in return is, "I've felt worse," and the blunt tone makes her laugh, a little girlish giggle that makes her nose scrunch up and the skin around her eyes crinkle and it only makes her look more perfect in his eyes. She outshines the stars. Senator Padmé Amidala is the most beautiful creature in the world, Anakin swears it.

Once again, her gaze fixes on his prosthetic arm. She's a curious thing. Her hand reaches out and hovers over it, but she pauses, as though she isn't quite sure whether she wants to touch it. Anakin encourages her with a small nod, and she ghosts her fingers over the cool metal. He can't feel it, but he knows she's touching him, because she makes a surprised little gasp in the back of her throat. Clearly, she was expecting something different. Her smooth, dainty fingers glide over his prosthetic experimentally, and Anakin watches her, fascinated by the inquisitive expression on her face.

"Does it hurt?" she asks quietly, and stills her hand in his palm, afraid of putting him in pain. It does hurt. There is a constant ache in his shoulder where his prosthetic meets his true flesh and bone and it throbs without cause, but he doesn't tell her that. He doesn't want to worry her.

"The meds help," he tells her, quirking his lips into a smirk and she grins back at him. Anakin takes this moment to surprise her and closes his fist around her hand, making her jolt a little. Her eyes widened considerably as she gazes at their entwined hands. Those perfect, pink lips of hers part and she exhales sharply. Anakin is captivated by her every action, her every expression. He knows he would be content watching her for the rest of his life.

Her hand squeezes his firmly and she flicks her eyes back to his face to gauge his reaction. "What does it feel like?"

"Weird," he tells her honestly. It's the only apt description he can come up with. While he knows the arm is there, and knows that he is holding her hand, he can't feel anything. It's the most bizarre feeling.

Padmé nods her head and smiles kindly at him. "The medical droid says you should gain feeling in a few days."

 _Good,_ he thinks to himself, wryly. It feels weird having a arm that is completely useless. It is almost as though it isn't even there. Experimentally, he flexes his fingers gingerly, watching the metal curl inwards and then snap back. Like a true hand. It does not creak or make noise. The engineers have done a wonderful job, there is no friction as he watches his fingers dance. Padmé watches too, and the sit in silence for a while, letting the hum of the medical bay lull them into an easy, relaxed state.

Anakin grows pensive, his mind running through all of the events leading up to this moment. Obi-wan's capture, he and Padmé going to Geonosis to rescue him and being capture themselves, her unexpected confession of love for him... It is _this_ thought that plagues him the most. She loved him. She'd told him she loved him and then she'd kissed him and then they were sent off to die. Regardless of how insanely _happy_ her confession had made him, he can't help but wonder if it was all a lie. Was it still true, now that their lives were not in danger? Had she meant it? Or was it merely her emotions, the adrenaline, that had gotten the best of her.

His eyes scan her face, tracing over every beloved curve and crease and he wonders whether she's thinking about this, too? Whether it means as much to her as it does to him. Anakin knows he loves her, he supposes he always has, but it had never been reciprocal. He is a Jedi - attachments of any sort of forbidden, let alone _love._ He always knew he would simply love her from afar, watch her marry another man, perhaps even a senator, and live a long and happy life. But now, everything has changed. If she loves him too, then Anakin feels he has to do something. Love isn't a bad thing, is it? It couldn't be. It certainly didn't _feel_ bad.

The burning question is right there, on the tip of his tongue. _Did you mean it?_ And yet, he can't bring himself to ask it. Padmé doesn't bring it up either, and so Anakin takes the hidden meaning to believe that she doesn't love him. How could she? She, a beautiful, passionate, brilliant Senator, could do so much better than a young, reckless Jedi padawan. He has nothing to offer her; they could never go public, they would have to live in secret, they could never raise a family without drawing attention to themselves. It is not a life many women would chose to live, and Anakin can't bring himself to disrespect her so.

So, he says nothing. The medical droid appears once again, to give Anakin his next dosage of pain killers. Padmé goes to leave, when he reaches for her hand, grasping her fingers with his flesh ones. "Stay. Please." She nods her head and does what he requests, sitting back down beside him and holding his hand until he drifts off into an unconscious sleep.

* * *

Padmé Amidala never thought she'd ever use the word _beautiful_ to describe a man, but as she watches Anakin sleep, she decides that it is the only fitting description for him. He is simply beautiful. He eyes quiver underneath his closed lids as he dreams, his plump lips are parted just enough, but not too much, his nostrils flare with every inhale. His head is tilted slightly off to the side, his padawan braid spilling down his neck. The harsh, fluorescent glow of the medical bay lights cast harsh shadows across his blissful face, and yet he has never looked more beautiful to her. It's unfair, really, for someone to look so utterly perfect, and yet she can't even muster the strength to be mad at him.

She wants to reach out and touch him, feel his soft, smooth skin beneath her inquisitive fingers, longs to smooth out the crease in his brow with her lips, but she doesn't. She knows better. He is a Jedi. He is off limits, to her, to _everyone,_ but that doesn't mean she can't admire him. Anakin's grip on her hand is weaker than it was before he went to sleep, yet she knows if removes her hand, he will wake up, so she doesn't disturb him. He's been through so much over the past few days. First he lost his mother, and then he almost lost Obi-wan, and then he succeeded in losing his arm. Rest is what he needs most.

He stirs and mutters something, an incoherent moan, and Padmé smiles fondly at him, wondering what he is dreaming about. _Are you dreaming of me, Ani?_ Lately, Padmé dreams have been filled with Anakin. She recalls everything, every conversation they've ever had, every touch of his hand against hers, every sweet kiss... a flush rushes to her cheeks at the thought and her eyes instinctively rest on his lips. She is not new to romance, at least, she is not new to kissing. There have been two others in the past who she had deemed worthy enough for her affection. And yet, never had she thought that kissing Anakin Skywalker would be the single greatest experience of her life. How can one who is so unavailable feel so absolutely wonderful? While his hands are calloused and hardened from years of training, his lips were as soft as silk as they brushed against hers. At the memory, she brings her fingers up to her mouth and closes her eyes. A familiar ache resides low in her core as she remembers his trembling lips moving with hers beside the lake at Varykino.

The pleasant memories are interrupted by another groan from Anakin. This one is louder, deeper, with a hint of distress. His eyes are clenched shut and his hand closes tighter around hers. "No... no, no..." he mutters under his breath and his head thrashes against the pillow. Padmé watches in horror, placing a hand on his chest, trying to wake him. "Master..." he rasps. "No! No!"

"Ani," Padmé calls to him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, but his head his moving too violently. "Ani, please, _wake up_." It breaks her heart to see him like this, so vulnerable and helpless, so unlike the brave, fearless Jedi she knows he is.

He doesn't hear her. " _Padmé,_ " he moans. "No!" and suddenly his eyes flash open and focus on her face. His golden skin is shining with perspiration and he goes to sit up, when she stops him with a press of her hand.

"It's alright, Ani," she tells him in soothing tones. Her hand smooths up the fabric of his of medical gown to caress the side of his face gently, and Anakin sighs into her touch. She knows just how much her presence calms him and uses it to help him. "It was only a dream."

Those intoxicating blue eyes hold her captive for several minutes, piercing through her into her very soul. Padmé does not shy away from the intensity of it. Instead, she embraces it, basks in it. It gives her a certain thrill to know that she is the only person who has ever been gazed at like this. She is mesmerised by the delicate beads of sweat pooling in the crease of his upper lip, and a part of her longs to flick out her tongue and taste him, sip it from his skin.

She stays where she is.

Anakin's eyes never leave hers as he reaches up with his new, robotic arm, to stroke her cheek. When he is mere millimetres from her, he freezes, eyes widening in horror, and Padmé realises that he is afraid to touch her with his prosthetic. It is a silly fear, for she cares not about his prosthetic. It serves as a reminder for how brave he is, how much he has sacrificed for the good of the Republic. It makes her proud. "You can touch me, Ani," she reassures him. "I don't mind."

He swallows and Padmé watches his Adams apple bob in his throat, but his hand remains perfectly still. With a sad smile, she takes his hand and moves it up to her cheek, reiterating her words. Anakin says nothing as his metals fingers ghost over her cheekbone and up to her temple. It is a strange feeling, so cold and hard, and yet she can't deny the shivers the shoot down her spine. He takes his time, as though he is memorising every line of her face in case he ever forgot and she lets him.

"I thought I lost you again," he whispers, his voice trembling, and her heart reaches out to him.

She gives his flesh hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere."

It is a lie and the pit in her stomach drops as she realises how wrong she is. In a few days, she will be going back to Naboo. The Chancellor has granted her a few weeks respite after her ordeal on Geonosis. She will return to Varykino. And Anakin will go to war with the rest of the Jedi. Their time together is at an end, Padmé knows this, and yet she can't bring herself to remind him of that fact. How can she, when he is so vulnerable, when his eyes are searching her face for some kind of hope?

He knows it too, she can tell by his expression, but he says nothing more and his hand drops back onto the bed beside him. Padmé takes the opportunity to find a damp cloth and tends to his forehead, wiping the sweat off his brow. "You don't need to do that," he mutters in partial embarrassment.

Padmé shushes him. "I want to." She wants to take care of him, because it may be the last time she can and she wants to savour every minute spent with him.

Anakin grins at her stubbornness and reaches up with his flesh hand to take a hold of her wrist. "Stop. I'm fine."

She huffs at him, petulantly. He can be so infuriating sometimes, so arrogant that he can't even accept a little help. "Anakin Skywalker, let me take care of you," she growls at him. Then, her expression grows sad and she drops her voice. "It may be the last time."

The air around them grows tense and thick and Padmé sinks her teeth into the cushion of her bottom lip, willing herself not to fall apart. Instead, she concentrates on Anakin's thumb rubbing soothing circles on her wristbone and busies herself with patting his forehead and straightening his medical gown. She refuses to look at him directly, for she knows what she will find in his eyes and she can't handle that right now. Sighing, she draws her attention to the drip hanging beside him, and notices that his fluids are running low. With purpose, she stands up and announces, "I'm going to find a medical droid. You need more fluids."

Anakin's eyes never leave her retreating form as she leaves, they burn into her skin and make her feel more vulnerable than ever. With a silent curse, she refuses to look back. If she did, she might never leave.

It is so much cooler outside Anakin's room, the air is thin and clearer and Padmé can breathe easier out here. She finds Obi-Wan sitting on a lounge out in the sitting room and his head snaps up at her presence. _Poor man,_ she thinks miserably. He has been through so much too and it can't be easy always chasing after Anakin. It is a miracle that his hair hasn't turned grey. There is a tired expression in his sea-green eyes and she wonders whether he has even slept at all? Whether he is plagued by the same terrifying nightmares that cripple his Padawan.

"How is he?" Obi-Wan asks as she takes a seat beside him.

She smiles. "Awake. You should go and see him. He'd like that." The older Jedi nods gravely but makes no attempt to move. There is something troubling him, she can tell, but whatever it is, she does not press him. Padmé has a lot of respect for Obi-Wan Kenobi - he is everything a Jedi should be; brave, calm, good. Not for the first time, she is glad that Anakin has him for a Master. "Have you seen a medical droid?" she asks him. "Ani needs more fluids."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No." When he says nothing more, she makes to stand up, when the Jedi reaches out and touches her hand, silently asking her to stay. "Senator Amidala, may I speak honestly?"

His formality makes her laugh. "We have known each other far too long for such formalities, Obi-Wan. Please, call me _Padmé._ "

"Padmé," he says with a nod.

She closes her hand over his, prompting him gently. "What is it you wish to speak to me about?"

He says nothing for a moment and merely closes his eyes. From his composure, Padmé is a little concerned. What does he want to tell her? It must be serious, otherwise he would have mentioned it already. She hides her impeding worry with a gracious smile and waits patiently for him to continue. When he opens his eyes again, there is a deep sadness swimming there.

"What are you intentions with Anakin?" he finally asks, his voice soft.

The question takes her by surprise and she makes a small noise in the back of her throat, her eyes growing wide. Her _intentions?_ What does he mean by that? As far as Padmé is aware, she has no intentions. She knows that they cannot logically be together, she knows it has to come to an end, whatever _it_ is. "I don't know what you mean."

Obi-Wan sighs heavily. "You may not know this, but Anakin harbours deep feelings for you, Padmé. As a Jedi, he is forbidden to form attachments. Most Jedi understand this, but Anakin..." he breaks off sadly and his eyes drift towards his room. "Anakin feels too much. He often let's his emotions get the best of him."

Padmé nods. This she knows. She's seen it first hand. His anger, his grief, it had overwhelmed him and he had lost all control, and avenged his mother in the only way he felt was right. She didn't like thinking about it; for she was torn between being horrified and being sympathetic. As horrible as it was, what he had done, Padmé couldn't help but feel a sense of justice. She had always been against slavery. A part of her believed the Tuskan Raiders got what they deserved.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks.

"Because I worry about him. His attachment to you runs deep. He will do anything to protect, even if that means rejecting the Order, even if it is not the _right_ thing... I know it is not proper to ask a lady such personal questions, but I need to know what your intentions are, for Anakin's sake. Do you return his feelings?"

Padmé froze. A hard lump formed in her throat and that pit in her stomach dropped. _Yes,_ she wanted to say. _I love him._ But she couldn't bring herself to do it. The fact that she returned his feelings only made the situation that much worse. It couldn't happen, she knew that. They could never be together, regardless of what they felt for each other. If she was being honest with herself, she regretted telling him her true feelings. If she'd known they were going to survive, she would have kept them hidden away. Now, she'd given him hope, even if it was just a sliver, only to tear him down.

"No," she lied. "I care for Anakin as a friend, nothing more."

"Then you must tell him at once," Obi-Wan pleads desperately, clutching her hand tightly and staring deeply into her eyes. "His infatuation will only grow stronger the longer he is kept in the dark. You _must_ end it, Padmé. It will hurt him, I know, but he will soon move on and it will all be for the better. _Promise me, Padmé._ Promise me you'll do this, for me, for _Anakin_."

Padmé swallows. Her heart is racing. She knows what Obi-Wan asks of her is for Anakin's benefit. Still, she doesn't know if she could do that to him. Even if it is the right thing to do. She would break his heart. His emotions are fragile enough as it is. It would tear him apart. And yet, there is an underlying truth to the older Jedi's words. Eventually, he would move on, and all would be set right.

She nods her head slowly and whispers, " _I promise,_ " and the sigh of relief that escapes Obi-Wan's lips informs her that she's done the right thing. Obi-Wan stands and smooths his robes, wishing her _good day_ as he retreats into Anakin's room, leaving Padmé alone and distraught on the lounge.

If it's the right thing to do, why does it feel so _wrong?_

* * *

He expects a medical droid as the door slowly opens, and is pleasantly surprised when he recognises his Master's face peering into the room. In this moment, Obi-Wan Kenobi looks far older than his thirty-five years. His expression is grave, his face lined with worry and there are dark circles under his eyes that indicate he hasn't slept. _He's been worrying about me again._

Anakin beckons him inside with sly grin. "Anyone would think you're the one who lost an arm, Master," he quips, light-heartedly as the older Jedi approaches his side and sits on the end of his bed.

Chuckling, Obi-Wan shakes his head. "You are going to make me grey before my time, Anakin," he sighs, though his lips quirk into a familiar smirk.

"Someone has to keep you on your toes," Anakin informs him smugly, raising his eyebrows. "I help you stay young and youthful. I'm doing you a favour." He can sense there is something troubling his master, something other than the fact that his padawan is lying in a hospital bed with a robotic arm. Normally, he would pester his master for answer, but he is too tired. Obi-Wan will tell him when he feels the time is right.

"How are you feeling?"

Anakin shrugs. "I've felt worse." When his arm had been sliced off. The thought makes him narrow his eyes and a surge of anger courses through him. "If I ever meet Dooku again, I'll make him wish he'd cut off both my arms," he hissesdarkly.

His words distress his master, but Anakin doesn't care. He wants Dooku to pay for everything he has done, not just to himself, but to the Republic. There is war in the galaxy, a galaxy that had been in an era of peace for decades, and it is all the fault of the Sith. The thought makes Anakin's blood boil. He can't wait until he is fully healed, so he can join Master Windu and the other Jedi out in the field.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says sadly. "Be mindful of your feelings. Revenge is not the Jedi way."

Scowling, Anakin groans, "Some people deserve what they get." His mind automatically returns to his mother's limp form, hanging from the ceiling, bloodied and bruised and dying. Unconsciously, he clenches his fists and grits his teeth together in order to maintain control. If his comment alarms his master, Obi-Wan makes no show of it. Sometimes, Anakin thinks his master is just like him, underneath his facade of rules and propriety and selflessness. He knows Obi-Wan has felt the need for revenge, when his own master was slaughtered at the hands of the Sith Lord Darth Maul. Perhaps that is why he says nothing.

A medical droid enters the room and replaces his drip. Anakin wants to rip the tube from his arm, take back his lightsaber and train. He longs to do something, _anything_ , besides lying on this cot. If he loathes anything, it is a lack of freedom. Here, in the medical bay, he feels like a prisoner. He feels trapped. "How long until I can leave?" he asks the droid.

The droid fixes him with a mechanical stare. "Two days, Master Skywalker."

He grumbles and sticks out his lip with a huff. Two more days of hell. Two more days of being completely bored. Two more days of debilitating nightmares. He wonders if his master has nightmares too?

"Anakin..." Obi-Wan begins tentatively once the droid leaves. He looks up at his master, furrowing his brows in confusion. "I know that you and Senator Amidala have grown... _close..._ over the course of your assignment."

He says nothing and and stares sullenly at his lap. He doesn't want to talk about this. Not now. "Padmé is a good friend," he concedes, hoping that will abate his master. It doesn't.

"I'm no fool, Anakin," Obi-Wan frowns, crossing his arms. "I know you have feelings for her."

With a scowl, he fixes his master with a stony glare. "What do you know of it?" he snaps. It is unfair, really, to take this out on his master, but he can't help it. He knows she is off limits to him. He _knows._ Still, he can't help but love her. If he could wish away his feelings, he would. But he can't. It is this that frustrates him most of all. Anakin didn't ask to fall in love. Sure, he admired her when he was a child, but it was only when he was with her again that he realised his infatuation ran deeper than simple, primal lust. He was in love with her.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his auburn hair, his eyes growing sad. "I once harboured feelings for a young woman when I was your age," he confessed. Anakin can't believe what he is hearing. His master, the righteous Obi-Wan Kenobi, had felt _love?_ It almost makes him laugh. Even so, he can't help the incredulous expression on his face.

"It's true," Obi-Wan continues. "I was a young padawan, and Master Qui-Gon and I were assigned to protect the young Duchess of Mandalore. We... we fell in love, accidentally of course, but I knew that it would have to come to an end." He meets Anakin's eyes and holds him there, deadly serious. "It's not that we aren't allowed to have these feelings, Anakin. It's natural. But, we have to know when to put them aside. You are a Jedi. Your feelings for Senator Amidala must _only_ remain friendly."

Anakin grits his teeth. "I _know_ , Master," he says. "I know what is required of me."

"Then, you must know that you have to break all contact with her." Anakin says nothing. He can't even bear the thought. "If you are to truly move on, you must cast her aside."

"I..." Anakin begins in a small voice. "I can't do that. I... I love her."

Obi-Wan remains firm. "You _must,_ Anakin. You have no choice." Then, his expression softens, and he reaches for Anakin's hand. "I know how hard it is. I'm not saying it won't be painful. But, in time, you will understand you made the right decision."

As he leaves, Anakin stews on his words. Can he do it? Can he sever ties with Padmé? Can he forsake his feelings for her for his duty to the Jedi Order? To the Republic. His fists clench as he sinks his head back into the pillow. Because he knows the answer. He knows his responsibilities.

 _I must._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Another update. This is just how I thought this would play out. Padmé is always the one who makes the final push, in my opinion.**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy xx**_

* * *

"Get me out of here."

It's hard - it really is - to refuse him when he's looking at her like that. Gorgeous pools of blue pleading with her, _begging her_. Padmé can't deny him. It's as though he knows exactly how to push every single one of her buttons with just a single glance, can crumple even her strongest resolve. All rational thought seems to leave her when she is in Anakin's presence. Not that she minds. Not truly. Padmé is always rational and logical, a pragmatic senator in all facets of life. It feels good to be _spontanous_ every once in a while.

Anakin is all spontaneity and recklessness and passion and she is drawn to it like moth to flame. It excites her and frightens her and ignites something so very primal deep in her very soul. Perhaps it is purely because _he_ is the one asking, but she feels a sudden desire to do something she knows she shouldn't. To break the rules and just live in the moment for once in her life.

Still, she is reluctant and bites her lip, her eyes darting towards the door in case someone can hear her. "Ani, I can't do that." He needs rest. He needs to heal. The medical droid gave him strict orders.

"Please," he begs, his hand reaching for hers, clutching her fingers. "I can't stand it in here, Padmé. I can't... _breathe._ "

The sound of his voice, so helpless, stirs something inside her and she whimpers, sucking her bottom lip even further into her mouth as she contemplates his request. Anakin has a freedom complex. It stems from his childhood as a slave. Being confined to his bed goes against everything he believes in. It is for his own good, he knows this as much as she does. The feeling in his new arm has yet to fully return. Her eyes scan his face, he looks gaunt, cheekbones more defined that normal. _Maybe some fresh air will do him some good,_ she rationalises.

With a curt nod, she pulls the tube from the crease in his left elbow as delicately as possible, trying to ignore the tiny gasp of pain that slips from his lips, and she takes his hand, helping him to his feet. After two days bedridden, he is a little unsteady and clutches her waist for support as he stands upright. The wild grin he flashes at her makes her feel as though she's done the right thing, regardless. Once she is sure he can stand without assistance, she hurries over to the door and opens it just enough to peak through. If anyone was the catch them... she doesn't want to think about the consequences. The hallway is void of anything, droid or otherwise, and she turns back to Anakin, beckoning him to follow her.

She takes his hand, and the two of them make a run for it, sprinting down the corridor and out the back door, where they are trapped by a narrow balcony. As soon as he is out in the air again, Anakin lets loose a wild cry of laughter, his entire expression brightening. Padmé can't help but notice how his eyes catch the starlight, making them sparkle. He is breathtaking in his euphoria. Swallowing, she chastises him for being so loud. It is then that she notices his medical gown is partially open at the back, and she can't help but sneak a glance at his exposed skin. She is only human, after all. Who can blame her? Her eyes rake over the muscles of his strong back as he raises his arms gleefully and as they travel lower, she blushes furiously, when she notices the smooth, firm curves of his backside. He is naked underneath the gown, and she hurriedly averts her eyes to give him some dignity. The knowledge that Anakin Skywalker is near naked beside her does something to her insides that she is almost ashamed to feel.

Instead, she decides to focus on the environment around her. The Coruscanti sky is littered with stars, and the moon hangs like a silver orb amidst the dark velvety expanse, casting it's pale light over the city below. Even at this hour, Coruscant is alive. Speeders zip and duck and weave through the air, the insistent thud of dance music from the various clubs can be heard in the distance, joyous cries and shouts of people enjoying a night out. And, of course, there is the constant hum of the Holonet, broadcasting the latest news and gossip. As they stand there, Anakin's hand nudges hers and she lets him take it.

"Thank you," he says, looking down at her and giving her a grateful smile, which she returns sweetly. At times, Padmé can't believe how much control Anakin has over her. It's as though she is bent to his will and does anything he asks of her. There is nothing sinister about it- she simply wants to make him happy. _This is what love is,_ she realises and her heart does a little flip in her chest. "It's good to be back home, isn't it?"

Padmé can't agree. She has never considered Coruscant her home. It is her place of work, it is where she currently resides, but it is not her home. Naboo is her true home, where she spent her childhood. Though she can understand his relief in returning here, for it is the only place Anakin has ever felt at home, she misses being back at the Lake Country. Everything is different here. City security has doubled since their return and every major star system is on high-alert. Clone troopers guard the entrance of every building, and no one can enter or leave the system without being searched. Even more shocking is the amount of Jedi patrolling the city. Padmé can't recall a time where she has seen so many Jedi in broad daylight before. Normally, they are hidden away in their temple, away from the prying eyes of the Senate. Now, due to the stress of war, they are everywhere, keeping order, enforcing the peace. It's unsettling.

"I'm not going to be here for much longer," she tells him.

Anakin blinks at her, raising an eyebrow, questioningly. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the Lake Country," she says with a smile. "The Chancellor has granted me two weeks respite to recover from my _ordeal._ " Then, before she can even truly consider what she is asking, or the consequences of such a request, she finds herself saying, "you should join me."

Clearly, he finds the offer just as unexpected as she does, for his eyes widen a little and he swallows. Padmé curses inwardly. Why would she even ask such a thing of him? It's not fair. She's supposed to be keeping her distance - she made a promise to Obi-Wan. And yet, here she is, asking Anakin to go back with her, completely disregarding his feelings or his duty to the Republic. She feels selfish. It makes her sick.

After a long pause, Anakin sighs. "I... I can't, Padmé," he says, miserably. Of course he can't. She knows this as well as he does. "I'm a Jedi. I have to go and help Master Windu with the war... It's my _duty._ "

At the word _war,_ Padmé visibly stiffens. Her heart constricts a little tighter in her chest as she realises that Anakin will soon be fighting in the war against the Separtists. To say it frightens her is an understatement. Sudden, horrific images of him lying broken and bloodied and unconscious as battle rages around him appear before her eyes and she lets out a little gasp in the back of her throat. "But you're still _recovering,"_ she protests, her hand landing on his arm. "They can't expect you to go straight into battle..." her voice breaks off, because she knows she is preaching to the wrong choir. Anakin is a Jedi padawan. He has no choice. It is Obi-Wan who has control over his fate.

What he says next surprises her more than anything. "I _want_ to." The words are spat out through clenched teeth, and one glance at him reveals that his jaw is locked and his eyes are dark. Fists are clenched tightly, both flesh and mechanical. There is anger and hatred resonating deep within him; Padmé can see it written all over his face. It alarms her, because of it's familiarity. She's seen this look before. "I want to fight. Dooku must pay."

"Ani..." she says, timidly, running her fingers along his arm in an attempt to calm him down.

He turns and grips her wrist fiercely, his eyes piercing her and burning into her soul. "He almost had you _killed_ ," he hisses, eyes flashing dangerously, like blue fire. "I will find him, Padmé. I promise you. I will find him, and I will _end_ him."

The intensity of his vow overwhelms her, scares her, worries her. He is so lost, so unsure. All she wants to do is hold him. "You shouldn't talk like that," she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion. There are tears in her eyes, she can feel them, yet she wills them away, never tearing her eyes from his. "I don't want you to fight. You've been through so much, Ani. You need to rest."

"I've had enough rest," he says bitterly. "Besides, Obi-Wan would hardly let me. He... he wants - " He is struggling with himself, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Whatever he is going to say remains stuck in his throat, and Padmé knows better than the pester him.

With a soft smile, she entwines her fingers with his. "But would you like to?"

Anakin stares down at their hands and she follows his gaze, marveling at how small hers is compared to his. His hand dwarfs hers. "Yes," he mutters, suddenly growing shy and bashful and it such a gorgeous look on him that Padmé's heart swells with affection. "But... Obi-Wan - "

"Why don't you let me deal with Obi-Wan, alright?" she suggests brightly. "A week by the lake will do you some good. You liked it at Varykino, didn't you?" He nods. Beaming, she squeezes his hand. "Then it's settled. I'm sure Obi-Wan can spare you for a week."

"Why are you doing this?" he asks timidly.

 _Because I love you,_ she wants to tell him. Obi-Wan's words are ringing in her ears. Padmé knows she's pushing the limits of their friendship, she's hanging onto him when she should be letting him go. But she just _can't._ How can she break his heart like that and then send him off to fight without any time to grieve? It's a horrible thing to do to him, and Padmé just can't bring herself to do it. "I care about you, Ani," she says instead, though it is every bit as true. "I want to make sure you're fully healed before you go off to war. If something were to happen to you..." her voice breaks off as she is suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Her bottom lip quivers as her eyes grow moist and she swallows.

It hasn't occurred to her until now. Anakin is fighting in a very real war and there is a very real possibility that he won't ever return. It's almost too much to think about. Sensing her distress, he moves to take her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin, and holds her gently, letting her sob into his chest. Her hands clench into small fists against his strong chest and she shudders with every breath. "It's alright," he coos, rubbing her back softly. They stay like that for several moments and she doesn't want to leave his embrace. Though she is more than capable of taking care of herself, Padmé enjoys the security she feels when Anakin's arms are around her. It makes her feel stable, and safe, as though nothing could ever hurt her when he is here.

Anakin is the one who pulls away and he strokes her cheek, a sweet smile pulling at his lips. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeats her earlier sentiment. "It's rather difficult to kill a Jedi, you know."

She laughs softly and her gaze falls on his beautiful lips. They look so soft and ripe, so _close_ to her, and she knows that it would take almost nothing at all to close the distance between them and kiss him. Her tongue darts out and wets her lips as she recalls how _infinitely soft_ his kisses are. She wants it, and, judging by the way his pupils dilate and his eyes grow darker, he wants it, too. Padmé knows she could do it. Their faces are mere inches from each other, so exquisitely close that she can feel his hot breath on her skin and she leans in, eyes closed, offering him to take what has always been his, right from the off.

As always, he surprises her. "Padmé..." he begins, voice trembling. He makes no move to close the distance between them. Instead, his eyes are bright and shining with... _something_ , an emotion that she can't place. "On Geonosis, when we were... did you - ? Was it... did you mean it - what you said?" he trips and stumbles over the words, but in the end, he manages to ask the question and Padmé freezes where she is. _Ani, why are you asking this?_ She doesn't want to answer. What can she say? Her stomach drops and her heart sinks. She is so very torn.

Of course she meant it. She still means it. Padmé knows she loves Anakin, just as surely as she knows he loves her. Yet, she made a promise to Obi-Wan, to end it, to break it off, to deny him and let him move on. It's for his own good. She is the Senator. _She_ is older, wiser, more _pragmatic_ and rational. It's up to her to do this, because she knows that Anakin never will. He feels too much. He loves too deeply. Padmé must be the one.

And she just _can't._ Does that make her weak? Does it make her selfish? Possibly. Padmé feels disgustingly selfish, because even though she tells herself she is doing this because she doesn't want to hurt Anakin, she knows, deep down, that is doing it because she doesn't want to hurt _herself._

Thankfully, she is saved from making any sort of response, as there are sirens ringing in the building, signalling that a patient is missing. She blinks and stares up at Anakin, a little horrified, and takes his hand, pulling him back inside. He follows her without complain, though she can hear his laughter as he stumbles along behind her.

* * *

It's the expression on his face that cuts her the deepest, makes her feel guilty. Not angry, not frustration, merely disappointment. Obi-Wan looks at her as though she has thoroughly let him down, and she can't even blame him, because it's true. "You promised me," he says sadly, those sea-green eyes piercing through her and she can't help but bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

"I know," she tells him as a weak sort of excuse, because there is nothing else she can say. "I just - it will _break him._ If I tell him and then he's goes off to war..." she breaks off, the unspoken words lingering in the air. _He might throw himself in the firing line on purpose._ Honestly, it wouldn't be something that surprised her. Anakin was melodramatic, and highly emotional. Padmé would feel personally responsible if something happened to him during the war as a result of her words.

"Anakin's duty to the Republic is strong, Padmé. He wouldn't be that foolish." The way he says it though, she knows he agrees with her, at least a little.

Still, she persists. "Give me a week," she pleads. "That's all I need. I'll break it to him slowly, give him time to recover.

Obi-Wan is silent for the longest time, mulling over her words. There's a deep crease in his forehead and he doesn't look at her. Padmé sits patiently and waits for his verdict. What she is asking for is a little much, she knows, yet she's put a good argument forward. Her experience as a Senator has definitely prepared her. Debating is one of her specialities. Though not ruthless or harsh, she is able to present her case and persuade her fellow Senators to her cause in honeyed tones and sweet words. Many believe that she is weak, yet Padmé knows better.

With a heavy sigh, Obi-Wan stroked his cropped, auburn beard, closing his eyes. "A week?"

"Yes," Padmé nods. "I promise. Let me take Anakin back to Naboo and he'll never hear from me again." This time she means it, despite the fact that her heart is being crushed in her chest as she says the words. He means so much to her and she doesn't want to let him go, but she must. It is for his own good, and for her sanity. A Senator and a Jedi they must remain.

"Then it's settled," he conceded with a nod. "I except Anakin to return to Coruscant in a week's time."

Padmé smiles. "Of course. Thank you."

As she moves to leave, he calls to her, "Padmé," his voice trembling with uncertainty. When she looks back, she sees the saddest expression in his eyes. "I know you will do the right thing."

Little did she know that those words would haunt her for the rest of her life.

* * *

"Patience, Anakin. Use the Force," his master encourages as he trains in the rehabilitation lab. The feeling in his arm has completely returned, yet it still feels just as useless. It's as though he's forgotten everything that he did before he went into surgery, or at least, his arm has, for even the task of wielding his lightsaber, which had always been easy for him, was now a struggle. His arm felt slow and heavy and clumsy, and he performed his normally flawless routine like that of a youngling. It only served to make him grow more and more frustrated every time.

Locking his jaw, he closes his eyes and calls upon the Force. As it nudges him with it's familiar embrace, he lets himself flow through the training exercises, letting his arm _feel_ the movements. Constant words of advice fall from his master's lips as he does so. Relax. Clear your mind. Let the Force guide you. Trust your instincts. Each word only causes more frustration to build up inside him. threatening to bubble over.

Obi-Wan is being far too patient with him, encouraging and prompting with soothing words. Anakin doesn't want to be patronised. He _knows_ how terrible he is now. He feels worthless. Of all the different facets involved in the Jedi lifestyle, the lightsaber had been Anakin's strongest ability. He has no patience for meditating, and he is too unpredictable with the use of the Force. Often, his master had joked that if he applied himself to other areas of study as much as he did training with his lightsaber, he'd be a Jedi Master in a year.

Now, Anakin doesn't even feel worthy enough to be a Jedi. Who is he without his lightsaber? It had defined him, and now that piece of his identity has been stripped away by Dooku. The thought causes a deep anger to bubble inside him and he lashes out, swinging his electric blue saber with unrehearsed intensity, slashing at Obi-Wan with a fierce determination. His master blocks each attack, which only furthers his frustration, and he suddenly lets out a wild cry of anguish, falling to his knees. The lightsaber scatters a few feet away from him.

"It's no use," he curses through gritted teeth. "I'm no better than a _youngling._ " His body shudders with rage and his breaths come in fast, shallow gasps. Clenching his fists, he tries to keep control of his emotions. It has always been hard for him; he feels everything so _fully,_ so completely, they tend to overwhelm him. Obi-Wan approaches him and places a hand on his shoulder, gently, and crouches at his side.

"Anakin, you must have patience," he says, kindly. "All will return to normal with time."

He looks up in his master's eyes, sees the concern swimming there, and sighs. "I'll never be a Jedi Knight," he mutters in shame, hanging his head. Only once he says the words does he realise that it has been plaguing him all this time. It's all he wants. To forsake his Padawan braid and wielding the title of Jedi Knight; commanding battalions and gaining respect. How can he progress through the Order if he can't even master his lightsaber?

"Do not give up hope, Anakin," Obi-Wan tells him firmly. "You have been through a horrific ordeal. You must clear your mind. Such thoughts are..."

"A path to the Dark Side, I know," Anakin remarks bitterly. Back at the temple, Master Yoda always explained the dangers of such feelings and how they caused many to turn to the Dark Side. He does not need to be reminded.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan removes his hand from his back. "You will be a great Jedi some day, Anakin," he says, and there is a hint of pride lacing his words. "But you are still human. Perhaps Senator Amidala is right. A vacation might do you some good."

"Master?" he glances up with uncertainty, not quite believing what he is hearing. He was certain Obi-Wan would have declined such a request.

"Padmé has expressed her desire to take you with her when she returns to Naboo, in order for you to fully recover. I agree with her. Relaxation and rehabilition, without the stresses of war, will quicken your healing process."

Anakin nods and stares down at his prosthetic arm, flexing his fingers and watching the movements. "Thank you."

Obi-Wan then leaves, making Anakin promise to continue his training and meditation while away, to which Anakin promises he will. Once he is left alone with his thoughts, he reaches out his hand, and his lightsaber quickly flies towards him. His fingers run over the smoothness of it, almost reverently, as he thinks on what happened the day before. _She didn't answer me._ He'd finally mustered to courage to ask Padmé that one, simple question that had tormented him since he returned from Geonosis, and she hadn't said a word. What did it mean?

She'd been right there, so close to him, and she'd blinked up at him with those gorgeous brown eyes. He swore she had leaned into him, pursing her perfect lips just a little, and the sight had been so inviting it had taken all Anakin's strength not to kiss her. Yet, she had remained silent. If anything, that confused him the most. What is she playing at? Anakin is naive in the ways of women. He does not know what to do or how to proceed. Anakin had always been straightforward and honest. He sees no point in lying or dancing around delicate subjects in case of offending people. He gets right to the point. But Padmé? She is far from easy to understand. Everything about her is hidden beneath this facade of elegance and propriety and gentleness. She is polite and and kind and caring, and Anakin can't tell if it's because she cares for him, or because she is just a compassionate creature.

Groaning in frustration, he stands up and heads back to his room. There, he finds Padmé's bodyguard, Captain Typho, waiting for him with his hands behind his back. He greets Anakin with a curt nod of his head. "Skywalker." His first thought is that Padmé is in danger and his grip tightens on his lightsaber instinctively, but he quickly casts that aside when he notices Typho's formal, yet composed stance. If she was in trouble, he would be far more proactive.

"Captain Typho. How may I help you?"

The captain bows his head again. "Senator Amidala wishes to inform you that her ship will disembark in an hour. I am hear to escort you to the Senate building." He gestures to the bed. "Master Kenobi left these for you. He brought them back from the Temple."

Anakin approaches. It's his Jedi robes. He fingers the familiar, thick material absently, before returning his attention to Typho. "Thank you, Captain."

"I will leave you to ready your things," the captain says, bowing his head once more before exiting.

It feels strange to dress himself with his new arm; it is stiff and awkward and does not contort as easily as he flesh arm. Still, when Anakin succeeds, he feels a little bit of his identity return to him. Cloaked in his Jedi robes, he feels stronger, somehow, more powerful, more at ease. Eyeing himself in the mirror at the end of his bed, he clipped his lightsaber on his belt and felt a sense of pride surge through him. With his gloves, it was impossible to tell that he had a cybernetic arm. _This_ is who he is meant to be.

Captain Typho is waiting outside the door when he leaves, holding his head higher with a little bit of confidence. Anakin can't be more glad to be rid of the place when they leave the medical bay - he hopes he never has to spend more than a second here for the rest of his life. He would prefer death, he thinks, a quick, painless death whilst in battle, than endless suffering. The speeder takes them to the Senate building, where Padmé is waiting for them in the landing bay. Her expression brightens into a beautiful smile, lighting up her entire face, and Anakin can't tear his eyes away from her. She is exquisite, in her cream tights and purple, flowing blouse. Her brown hair is hidden underneath a violet headdress, and as much as Anakin longs to glimpse those glorious curls of hers, he appreciates it nonetheless. Padmé is never anything less than perfect in his eyes, no matter what she is wearing.

Standing beside her, is Obi-Wan, Master Windu and, to his surprise, Chancellor Palpatine. As Anakin dismounts the speeder and makes his way over to the assembly, he wonders what he has done to deserve such an audience.

"Ani!" Padmé exclaims when he reaches them. "You look good as new."

Her compliment brings a shy smile to his face, and he feels his cheeks flush a little. "Thank you, milady."

"It is good to see you looking so well, Anakin," the Chancellor remarks and Anakin bows his head in respect. The Chancellor is a man that he greatly respects. His decision to utilise the Clone Army shows a lot of foresight, and he feels confident that they can win the war against the Separatists with Palpatine at their head. "We were all quite concerned when we saw you rushed off to the medical bay once you arrived on Coruscant."

"It was only my arm, Chancellor," he concedes modestly. "Nothing that can't be fixed."

The Chancellor smiles wryly. "Nonetheless, I am glad you are escorting our dear Senator Amidala. All these threats on her life, who knows if she is still safe."

Anakin's eyes dart over to Padmé's for the briefest of moments. "I assure you Chancellor, no harm will come to the Senator." His eyes never leave hers as he says the words, and her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. "You have nothing to fear with me, milady." _I will guard you with my life._

With a soft chuckle, the Chancellor grins. "Well, it seems like you are in good hands then, my dear."

They say their goodbyes and Obi-Wan hugs Anakin tightly. "Promise me, Anakin," he mutters as they pull away. "Promise you will do the right thing."

He swallows and meets his master's gaze sincerely. "Of course, Master. I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Oh my poor sexually-frustrated babies. I feel sorry for them, I really do. Thank you for all the support so far. I hope you enjoy this next little chapter.**_

* * *

Anakin is restless. His mind is elsewhere. The _Nubian_ glides swiftly through hyperspace towards Naboo, and yet, instead of feeling excited or even relieved that he will have time to relax, all he feels is worry. The question is there, in the back of his mind, on the tip of his tongue, weaving in and out of every thought. _Why?_ It's always _why_ with his Padmé. She is a riddle, one that he finds the greatest pleasure and frustration in trying to decipher, and yet he always ends up more confused than when he started. All the while he's known her, he's been asking himself this question. Most of the time he can guess the answer. _Because you're a Jedi and I'm a Senator. Because Obi-Wan is our friend and we have to save him. Because it's the right thing to do._ Yet, now, he is stumped. Her offer to invite him back to Naboo with her is as unclear as ever. _Why, Padmé?_ What is she thinking?

Sometimes, Anakin feels a strong urge to reach out through the Force and find out the answer for himself. He's knows it's wrong, to invade a person's privacy like that, but she drives him almost mad with confusion that he feels it's the only choice left for him. Luckily for him - for she would likely kill him if he ever did - he refrains, yet it only serves to make him agitated. He sits in the co-pilot seat, one knee bouncing, mechanical fingers tapping an unknown rhythm on the arm rest. There is a strange, swirling sensation in his stomach that makes him feel uncomfortable, which he recalls she refers to as _butterflies_ and he is overwhelmed by a strong urge to leap from his seat, stride into her quarters and demand to know why she insists on tormenting him so. She has been doing it since they were first together on Naboo; the subtle flirtations, the shy smiles, the delicate brush of her hand against his. He knows it cannot be, and so does she, she has made that clear enough. So why not let him be?

Grumbling, he rises and heads back to his quarters. He needs to meditate, to clear his mind. That is what a vacation is for, after all. He is supposed to be relaxing, not worrying. When he reaches his room, he strips out of his thick, heavy Jedi robe, leaving him in his tunic and pants, and sits on the end of his bed. Deftly, he slowly removes his heavy, leather boots, as he finds it easier to meditate when he is not weighed down by his Jedi attire. It is more comfortable this way. Crossing his legs under him, Anakin closes his eyes and attempts to clear his mind, as Obi-Wan has taught him, letting the Force flow through him. Just as he begins to let go, he feels _her._ Though his eyes are closed, he knows her Force signature anywhere. Opening one eye, he sees her standing in the door of his room.

"Ani?" she begins, timidly, peeking at him through heavy lashes. Her lovely features are contorted into a shy, concerned expression that he immediately tries to remedy by smiling at her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were meditating. I don't want to disturb you."

Anakin shakes his head. "You didn't. I'm not very good at it, anyway."

She takes several steps into the room, hands behind her back, and even though the lighting is dim, he can see a delicate flush colouring her cheeks. "Is something bothering you?" Padmé approaches him and sits beside him. The way her hand is poised, over his knee, as though she wants to touch him, only inflame the swirling sensations in his belly and he shifts uncomfortably beside her. "You only meditate when something is wrong. Are you in pain?"

The worry in her voice speaks volumes, and he shakes his head to assuage her. "Obi-Wan says a Jedi must meditate every day, to clear the mind and become one with the Force."

Padmé smiles softly, though Anakin can sense her confusion. She doesn't understand the workings of the Force. "Oh. I should leave you to it, then."

As she moves to leave, he reaches out and touches her wrist gently with his fingers. "Stay," he insists in hushed tones. "I like having you here. Your presence calms me."

Her cheeks flush an even deeper colour and she blinks at him, shy and bashful, and Anakin knows that she is the most beautiful thing he has ever beheld. Those dark, expressive eyes of hers rest on him for a moment, only a manner of seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. Then, as though she is embarrassed, her gaze darts to the floor, and laughs softly as she notices his various garments decorating the floor.

"Must you always meditate in a state of undress?" she teases, playfully, and Anakin's lips quirk into a smirk.

"It's easier to clear my mind if I am comfortable, milady."

Intrigued, he watches as she bends to pick up his Jedi robe from the floor, and marvels at how her eyes widen and her inquisitive fingers play with the thick material. "This is heavier than I expected," she remarks in surprise. "It must get dreadfully hot."

Anakin shrugs. "You get used to it."

Padmé surveys the room, still clutching his robe in her hands, and a cute little frown pulls at her eyebrows. "Do you not have any luggage?"

"A Jedi needs only the clothes on his back and his lightsaber, milady," he explains. "We have no need for worldly possessions. We have the Force."

Adorably, her head tilts slightly to the side, and once again, Anakin can feel confusion seeping out of her. "I'm afraid I don't understand," she admits. "What exactly is the Force?"

With a smile, Anakin beckons her to join him, and she moves to sit beside him again, gazing at him curiously. He wills himself not to react, that she is only interested in learning about the Force, but her presence always affects him so. "The Force resides in all life forms. Those who are, what the Jedi call, _Force sensitive_ , are particularly attune to it. We can use it to do our bidding... remember, on Naboo, how I could move objects without touching them?"

Padmé nods her head. "Yes, I remember. You were trying to impress me." Her lips curve into a teasing smile, and her eyes flash, and Anakin can't help but return it.

"If I recall correctly, it seemed to work." _Yes,_ he thinks, _you told me you had feelings for me, after that._ But he keeps that piece of information to himself.

"So, is that all the Force is good for? Impressing women?" she cocks an eyebrow at him and he feels a surge of warmth flowing down to his lower regions, much to his horror. He doesn't want to feel this, _not now_ , but her flirtations have always affected him, no matter how hard he tries to ignore them.

Instead, he decides to join in, and raises his own eyebrow. "Only beautiful women. _Milady._ "

A grin of triumph crosses his face when he sees her physically freeze, those perfect lips of hers parting in surprise, her eyes widening. It thrills him to know that he can effect her just as strongly as she affects him. She averts her gaze, casting her eyes down to her lap, where her hands are clasped together, and doesn't say a word. The air around them grows thick and heavy and dense, Anakin can practically _feel_ the tension between them. It sizzles, crackling with electricity, and suddenly, he is very, very hot. Much to his embarrassment, he feels himself harden beneath his pants and shifts awkwardly, hoping that she does not notice.

"What is it you wanted to see me about?" he asks after a time, trying to change the subject before the room explodes into flames. He uncurls his legs and stretches them out, and swears he sees her follow the movement.

When she finally looks at him, her features are once again composed in that political facade she wears so well. It is only in times like this, when they are alone together, that Anakin sees the _real_ Padmé Amidala. He lives for that, lives for breaking down her walls and exposing her for the woman she truly is. The woman who hides under senatorial gowns and headdresses and formalities. Only _he_ knows her; a woman of conviction and passion, quick wit and flirtatious smiles. As wondrous as the senator is, Anakin finds the _woman_ far more intriguing.

"We are entering Naboo airspace," she informs him. "I came to tell you to ready your things as we will be landing soon. But..." her top lip quivers and her eyes flash with amusement. "It seems I don't need to."

Anakin grins. "No, it seems not."

Padmé makes to stand, a tiny bubble of laughter slipping past her perfect lips and the sound goes right to his groin. It's shameful, really, how quickly his body responds to her. Anakin locks his jaw and his clenches his fists to repress the sudden, powerful urges that arise within him. Innocent to what is happening, she smiles and hands him back his robe. "I'll leave you to redress." Her arms come up to adjust the headdress that adorns her head, and Anakin can't tear his eyes away from the exposed, pale skin of her stomach that is revealed to his hungry gaze. His fingers twitch as he yearns to know what she would feel like, how soft her skin would be, under his own. Her stomach is smooth and flat and _flawless,_ just like everything else about her. It takes more will than he wants to admit to tear his eyes away from her and respect her dignity.

Once she leaves, however, he can't suppress the groan of utter frustration that spills out of him. With a glance down to his lap, he finds his pants drawn tight across the aching erection he knows is there. Shame rushes through him; she is a _senator._ He can't think about her like this. It's so, _so very_ wrong and yet, when he closes his eyes, all he can picture is her smooth, beautiful skin, and he bites his lip. Unconsciously, his fingers brush over the top of the tent in his pants and he inhales sharply at the sensation. He needs release. _Now._ There is no way in _Force_ that he can greet Queen Jamillia when he is this hard and obvious.

Using the Force, he closes the door to his quarters and begins unlacing the top of his pants. As soon as his mechanical hand comes in contact with his cock, he hisses, eyes fluttering closed, head thrown back against the wall. The cool metal is oddly different to his warm flesh, but it is enough. One quick stroke of his length and he is already leaking. " _Padmé_ ," he whispers, deadly quiet in case she can hear, and he pumps himself, all the while seeing _her_ behind his lids, her brilliant smile, her beautiful eyes, her smooth, flat stomach. The pace increases and he knows he's close and he bites his lip hard, until it bleeds, to keep from moaning out her name. With a great shudder, his release hits him like a solid wall and he spills himself into his hand.

Swallowing, Anakin sighs deeply. He is more ashamed than he can even comprehend. If she knew what he had just done... he blanches at the thought. It sickens him. How can he even face her again after this? Yet, there is a part of him that reassures him. It's not the first time he has touched himself and thought of her. _It's not your fault,_ he tries to convince himself. _She was the one parading around in a midriff blouse._ Anakin is a twenty-year-old celibate male. There are certain urges that even a Jedi cannot suppress, especially when surrounded by the beautiful, brilliant woman that he loves more than anything in the galaxy. Certain _biological reactions._ Still, he is ashamed. She deserves better.

He stands, laces up his trousers, throws his robe over his shoulders and heads into the refresher to clean himself up. His head hangs in shame.

* * *

 _He's avoiding me._ Padmé realises this as they disembark the _Nubian_. Waiting for them, is Queen Jamillia, a tiny woman, even smaller than Padmé. Captain Typho and Anakin flank her sides, but the later has spoken less than two words to her since she left him in his quarters. Something has changed, and yet she doesn't know what she has done. Sneaking a glance at him, she notices his head is facing straight ahead, a strange, stoic look upon his face. It's new. It's confusing. She desperately wants to ask him what's wrong, but soon she is face to face with the Queen, and all thoughts of Anakin must be cast aside. At least, for now.

"My lady," she bows respectfully. "Thank you for letting me return on such short notice."

The Queen shakes her head and smiles brightly. "You are always welcome here, Senator Amidala. We have prepared your transport to Varykino. Your handmaidens are there, waiting for you."

Padmé smiles happily. She longs to see Dormé and Sabé. They have been acquainted since they were children, and Padmé thinks of them not as her handmaidens, but as her friends. There are few people she considers her friends. The Senate is swimming with politicians, greedy and selfish. The only person she truly trusts is Senator Organa, who she regards as a certain _father_ figure. No matter how nice of a man he is, however, it is not the same friendship she has with her handmaidens.

"Thank you, my lady," Padmé says, gratefully.

The Queen leads them out of the hangar and down a flight of sandstone stairs that trail the edge of the cliff which the Royal Palace sits on. The ocean lies to the left, and she instantly feels at home as she smells the salty, sea breaze that teases her blouses and washes over her face. Closing her eyes, she inhales, letting the tranquility soothe her. There is nothing compared to being home. She loves this planet with her whole heart, and she will fight for it, no matter what the cost. After everything that has happened, she hopes that the war will not come here, to Naboo.

At the base of the cliff, a small boat awaits them. It bobs gently on the surface as waves caress it's sides and the sight brings a smile to her face. There is something so comforting about seeing such a primitive form of transport. After weeks of being on starfighters or large, republic cruisers, the boat brings her back down to reality. It reminds her of simpler times. Captain Typho steps in first, taking her luggage with him, and Padmé goes to follow, when she feels a warm hand press on the small of her back. Jolting at the sudden contact, she feels her skin break out into goose-pimples and turns to see Anakin right behind her. His hand feels so warm against the bared skin of her back and it makes her heart flip several times. Not for the first time, she wonders what his hand would feel like touching other parts of her body, and catches herself. Such thoughts are not proper, especially about a _Jedi,_ and yet, she can't help the warmth that floods her cheeks and goes right to her core.

If he notices her reaction to him, he says nothing, and simply guides her into the boat, his hand only leaving her skin once she has settled into the passenger seat. As soon as it is gone, she misses it's absence. The Queen waves to them as the boat driver pulls away from the dock, and Padmé returns the gesture. The Palace looms above them as they depart, and she admires it's grandeur. It certainly is a beautiful thing to behold. She remembers when she first laid eyes on it, so many years ago when she was first elected Queen, and how awestruck she had been.A sad smile graces her face at the memory. _Oh_ , how young she had been. So naive about the ways of the universe. It seemed like _eons_ ago.

"What are you thinking?" she hears him ask her, his voice soft and gentle like the ocean around her. When she turns towards him, she falters under the beautiful entrapment of those blue eyes, searching her face, inquisitive and skeptical. She could get lost in them, she knows. If she let herself, she could stare into his eyes all day and never grow bored.

"Oh, just reminiscing," she tells him with a small smile. "It feels like a lifetime ago that I was Queen."

Anakin nods, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips, his perfect _plump_ lips, and Padmé is transfixed by that one, simple action. There it is again. That urge to kiss him. It burns like fire in her blood. He's so gorgeous she can hardly stand it. _No,_ she reminds herself firmly. _You made a promise._ Bitterly, Padmé wonders if Obi-Wan would be so firm if he had fallen victim to the pull of those blue eyes.

"I know," he agrees. "So much has happened since then. So much has changed." His voice drops off and he stares out to the horizon for a moment. "Do you remember when we first met?"

She laughs. How could she forget? They were both so young. If someone had told her that little Ani, the slave boy from Tatooine, would be the object of her affections, back when she would fourteen, she would have called them a Shaak. Now, she can't imagine _not_ loving Anakin. He consumes her every thought, her every action. "Of course. You were the boldest slave boy I'd ever met."

Her heart constricts a little when he smirks at her comment and she feels a surge of triumph. "And you were the boldest handmaiden I'd ever met."

"I thought I was an _angel?_ " she teases, remembering how Anakin had asked her that question so brazenly, how stunned she had been at the proclamation.

His eyes darken just a little, and the sight makes her swallow uncomfortably. "You are." _Oh._ If she isn't already so in love with him, she might have fallen again. The way he says it, so simply, as though it is the only logical response, does something to her fragile heart that she can't quite explain. Anakin Skywalker is the most bluntly honest man she's ever met. Most men in her world are polite and formal in their advances, dancing around subjects with elegant delicacy. Not Anakin. He voices his opinions exactly as they come to mind, without worrying about the consequences. She loves that about him.

Padmé doesn't know how to respond to such a statement, so she sits quietly, turning her attention to the surrounding ocean. Varykino soon comes into view, and suddenly, she can't wait to leave the boat, and Anakin's presence, and just be alone for a while. It's so difficult to stick to her promise to Obi-Wan when he is just so... there are no words to describe him. Her thoughts are clouded, her heart is racing. It's _pathetic._ She's a senator, an intelligent woman of twenty-four, and yet she's acting like a young girl. He just does something to her that she hasn't felt in a very, very long time.

Thankfully, Anakin doesn't speak anymore, and Padmé basks in the silence. As the boat pulls up, Anakin is out first, followed by Typho and they both lean down to help her. She decides to stick to the safer option, and takes her bodyguards hand for support. As she steps onto dry land, she tries not to notice the flash of hurt in Anakin's eyes and, instead, takes the lead up the path towards the villa. Sabé greets her out the front and Padmé hugs her fiercely.

"It's good to see you, milady," Sabé says as she pulls back, her eyes moist. Padmé returns her sentiment, before asking her to escort Anakin to his room. "Do you need an escort?"

"No, Sabé," she assures her handmaiden. "I know my way around."

Taking a left, and then a right, and then a flight of stairs, Padmé finally arrives at her room and smiles brightly once she opens the door. It is one of the finest rooms she has ever had the luxury of staying in. A large, white bed, high windows opening up to a spacious balcony overlooking the lake, her own private refresher, a lounge with an open fire. It is a room _made_ for the sole purpose of relaxation, and she intends to soak up every minute.

Finally alone, she decides to change out of her travel clothes, and slip into something more comfortable. Her Naboo gowns are made of much softer material compared to those she wears at the Senate. The fabric is light and loose, the colour of rose blossom, with a low back and a woven belt that wraps around her waist. She removes her headdress, and takes out the pins holding her hair in place, letting her natural curls to fall over her bare shoulders. Barefoot, she glides over to the balcony and rests against the railing, feeling content for the first time in weeks. After everything that has happened, it feels good to be free like this.

It's as she stands on her balcony, she realises that it's not a luxury. Not really. She has a week. A week to tell Anakin that the two of them can only be friends. The thought terrifies her. Padmé has always believed she has a way with words, and yet she can't even begin to fathom how she can tell Anakin. What is she supposed to say? Obi-Wan made her promise. She respects him too much to let him down. And yet... she is lost. Groaning, she puts her head in her hands and rubs her temples with her thumbs. Sometimes, she believes it would all be easier if she'd never confessed to Anakin how she felt. Now she'd have to lie to him, right to his face. _Oh, Ani, if only I hadn't fallen in love with you._

Movement below her catches her eye and she follows it, to see Anakin walking out into the courtyard. His robe is discarded, leaving him in his tunic, trousers and boots. Curiously, she peers down at him and watches as he draws his lightsaber, igniting it, and she marvels at the electric blue blade that suddenly comes to life. He begins to move, twirling the blade around him and she is fascinated. He's training. The way he moves, so fluidly, so athletically, it's one of the most beautiful things she's ever witnessed. Almost as though he is dancing, and his lightsaber is his partner. A part of Padmé wonders if he would be that graceful dancing with _her,_ spinning her around in his arms, and for a moment, she is lost in her imagination, before Anakin's cry brings her back to life.

Worried that he has hurt himself, she snaps her attention back on him. He moving more aggressively now, grunting with each forceful blow to an invisible opponent, and Padmé is transfixed. He is just so _powerful_ and it thrills her. Looking closer, she can see his golden skin shining with perspiration, his tunic clinging to the muscles of his arms and torso, and she wets her lips instinctively. Unable to stand watching from so far away, she descends into the courtyard and leans against a pillar. As though sensing her presence, he pauses and locks eyes with her. They pierce her soul so intently that she cannot look away, doesn't _want to._ The question is there, swimming in those eyes, yet he doesn't speak. His chest rises and falls heavily with his deep breathing and there is sweat beading in the cleft of his upper lip.

"Do you mind if I watch you?" she asks timidly. Jedi are incredibly secretive, and no one ever sees them train. She feels it is an opportunity she cannot pass up.

Anakin shakes his head, and his expression hardens suddenly as he jumps right back into his rigorous routine, slashing and leaping and twirling, and Padmé can't take her eyes off him. It must have been hours until he was finished, for the sun had sank lower on the horizon, bathing everything in a dim, orange glow. Anakin clips his lightsaber back onto his belt and slumps down on the edge of a nearby fountain. Padmé tries not to gawk when he lifts his tunic to wipe sweat off his face, but the allure of his firm, golden skin is too much for her to resist. When he looks up, he realises she's staring at him and his lips curl into a smirk.

"You watched me that whole time?"

Padmé nods. "You were - Ani, that was... beautiful." It's the only apt description for what she has just witnessed.

He scoffs and shakes his head. "It's not meant to be beautiful, Padmé. It's meant to be... _formidable_." There is a dark edge to his voice, sharp and dangerous, and this side of him rouses something primal inside her. Her thighs quiver at the sound of it, and she sinks her teeth into the cushion of her bottom lip, hoping beyond hope that he can't sense the _despicable_ _things_ she's currently thinking.

"Can't it be both?" There is no denying the hidden meaning in her words. He must know that she is talking about him. Because that is exactly how she sees him. Beautiful and formidable. A deadly combination of light and dark, ever switching sides, bound together by this overwhelming _passion_ to fight for those he loves. She's seen it with his mother. She's seen it with _herself._

Anakin doesn't say a word. He simply smirks at her, a sly, dangerous glint in his eye and she practically melts, falls at his feet in a puddle of desire. Except she doesn't. She stays composed, only giving away the churning emotions inside her by swallowing hard. He notices that, though, just as he notices everything about her. He almost swells with arrogant triumph. Yes, Anakin Skywalker might be an innocent and naive Jedi Padawan, but he knows _exactly_ what he is doing to her.

"Do you need to cool off?" she asks, suddenly, trying to break the tension that exists between them. It's as much for her sake as for his, for she is all hot and bothered and flustered and needs too cool of herself.

He tilts his head to the side, quizzically, and asks, "What do you have in mind?"

With a sly grin, she quirks an eyebrow. "Have you ever been swimming before?"

"I grew up on Tatooine," he tells her through a half-laugh. "Not exactly a lot of opportunities to swim."

It's the answer she's hoping for. She grins and bounces on her toes, holding out her hand to help him to his feet. "Well, then, my Jedi protector, I believe it's time you learn."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: R.I.P Alan Rickman :'( Honestly, this news hit me hard! Such a wonderful actor. Such a tragic loss.**_

 ** _Anyway, another update for you. All Anakin, because I just felt like it. The poor thing. He's so helplessly in love and he's trying so hard not to be. Enjoy xx_**

* * *

"I don't have any swimming clothes," he tells Padmé as they take the flight of stairs leading up to the living quarters at Varykino. He follows along blindly, relishing in the fact that she is holding his hand. When she pauses and turns back to face him, there is an adorable, surprised expression on her face, as though she has forgotten he has no other belongings but what he is currently wearing. If he were with Obi-Wan, there would be no need for swimming clothes, he would simply strip naked, as they have done countless times whilst bathing on missions together. But this is Padmé. She is a lady, a respectable senator and Anakin would rather be caught dead than have her see him naked.

A delicate flush colours her cheeks, the same hue as the exquisite gown she wears, and he knows she is clearly embarrassed by her lack of forethought. "Oh," she says and looks away. "Of course." Then she bites her lip, and it's all Anakin can do not to kiss her, to rescue that bottom lip from the assault of her teeth, because he's weak, _weak,_ when it comes to Padmé, and his strength to resist her is failing with every moment spent with her. "My sister and her husband stay here often. Maybe you can borrow something." She nods firmly, to herself more than anything, and the calls for her handmaiden.

"Padmé," he starts, keeping her hand in his grip, and his voice draws her attention back to him. Those beautiful, dark eyes of hers blink up at him under long eyelashes, and he feels his heart beating louder in his chest at the way she is looking at him. Not for the first time, he is grateful that Padmé is not Force sensitive, otherwise he is certain she could feel the strong emotions currently whirling inside him. It always catches him off guard, how he feels about her, how concrete his love is. He doubts it will ever fade, regardless of what happens between them. No, Anakin is certain that he will love her for the rest of his life, and even after, if what he hears is true of Jedi once they pass on. "You don't have to - "

"Hush," she tells him, smiling up at him sweetly and covers his hand with both of hers. They are so small and dainty, so soft and smooth, like porcelain and silk, and once again, Anakin feels that urge to touch her, run his hands all over her body, relish in the lush smoothness of her flawless skin. "It's not a problem. You're a similar build to my brother-in-law. I'm sure Dormé will find something suitable."

He can't help but smirk at her persistence. Perhaps it is because she is looking at him with a determined pout, or the residual adrenaline coursing through his veins, but Anakin suddenly feels bold. So bold, in fact, that he ventures a flirt. "Is it customary on Naboo to swim in clothes? Back at the temple, Jedi swim in nothing at all."

The way she flushes suddenly and swallows lets him know that she's thinking about it, about _him,_ and it thrills him to no end. Her little pink tongue darts out to wet her lips, dragging sensually over the plump flesh and, though innocent enough, it stirs all those wild emotions inside Anakin that he's been trying so, _so_ , hard to ignore since they arrived at Varykino. If he reaches out with the Force just a little, he can sense that she is uncomfortable. It only heightens those sensations. "I thought you said you've never swum before," she cocks an eyebrow, only _just_ maintaining her pristine composure. Anakin knows he's won, though; it's become a competition of sorts, a unspoken game between them, of who can effect the other more. And Anakin has always liked to win.

Grinning smugly at his victory, he shrugs, an air of nonchalance about him as though he is oblivious to what he's doing to her. He knows, though. He knows which smirks make her blush the colour of rose blossom, and which touches make her eyes widen and mouth part. Anakin knows everything about her. "I haven't. But some Jedi do. It's good exercise."

Padmé nods at that, a little smile gracing her face, her eyes glaze over like they do when she is reminscing. It's these moment where Anakin wants more than anything to know what she's thinking, to delve into that brilliant mind and uncover her secrets, her deepest desires, everything that makes her tick. He finds her endlessly fascinating. "I used to swim a lot as a child," she explains after a moment. "We would have races with the other children. I was quite good, actually," she adds, a little proud bounce in her step.

"Well, it looks like I'll have a superb teacher," he says and she flushes even deeper at the praise, ever modest and humble and, _Force_ , she's so beautiful Anakin can hardly stand it.

Then, her demeanour suddenly changes, and she narrows her eyes. "Do... do female Jedi swim... _naked_... as well?" she asks, tentative, eyes fixed on his. It makes him laugh, because he realises that she's _jealous_ , at least on some level, and that pleases him immensely.

"Yes," he nods. Jedi have no qualms about nudity. The body is merely a representation of the Force in physical form, not a object of lust, according to the Order, and should be regarded with as much respect as the Force itself. It is a view that is not widespread throughout the galaxy, however, and Anakin knows it's very improper to be seen completely naked. Still, the thought of Padmé completely bare, her beautiful skin exposed to his gaze, does something to him he can't explain. Jedi he might be, but he is also a man, a man in love, and he has human desires the same as any other.

Luckily, he is saved from his sinful thoughts when Dormé arrives and leads him into one of Varykino's many, spacious bedrooms. After spending so long cooped up in the medical bay, the space makes him cry out in delight. The bed is enormous and looks soft and plump, a welcome sight after the uncomfortable cot he was forced lie on while recovering. He even has his own fresher. And there is a door, a door he knows connects directly to Padmé's own quarters. Though it is the same room he stayed in whilst protecting her, the luxury still takes him by surprise.

Dormé, mistaking his cry of glee for one of disappointment, asks, "will you be comfortable here, Master Skywalker?" Master... it should feel wrong to be referred to as something he is not, but Anakin can't help but swell at the unintentional boost to his ego.

"Very much," he tells the handmaiden, choosing not to correct her. If here is the only place he will ever be a Jedi Master, then he intends to make it last as long as possible.

"I've laid out your things on the bed, as per milady's request," Dormé explains politely, curtsying before him.

Anakin flashes her a charming smile. "Thank you, Dormé." With another curtsy, the handmaiden leaves the room, and Anakin inspects the swim shorts. They are made of a light material, a huge contrast to the heavy woolen robe, scratchy linen tunic or trousers he's accustomed too. There is no shirt. Apparently, when you swim on Naboo, only pants will do. Shrugging, Anakin peels off his tunic, which is damp from sweat and leaves it in a heap on the floor at the end of his bed. His boots and trousers join it and he pulls the shorts up until they sit low around his hips. The material is loose around his thighs and the fabric makes this _swoosh_ sound when he walks, but all in all, they are comfortable enough.

He meets Padmé on the landing. She is waiting for him, two towels over her arm, wrapped up in turquoise linen that doesn't look at all easy to swim in. When he raises this observation, she only laughs, such a light, angelic sound and shakes her head at him. "Oh, Ani," she says. "I'm not swimming in this. It's a sarong. My swimsuit is underneath."

Anakin only frowns in confusion. "What is the point in wearing something over the top if you are just going to take it off?" he asks. It seems illogical to him. A waste of fabric, of _effort._

Padmé only smiles, a condescending smile that she would give to a child and it makes his frown harden. She looks at him like this, sometimes, and it frustrates him. He is _no_ child. "It's not proper for a lady to walk around in her swimsuit, Anakin," she explains.

"I'm without a shirt," he points out, gesturing to his bare chest, and he doesn't miss the way her eyes darken and pupils dilate just a little as she sweeps her they over his torso. It strokes his ego. "Are the rules different for males and females on Naboo?"

She laughs darkly. "You have much to learn, Ani." Then she turns and beckons him to follow her and they make their way down to the lake. It's sunset, and the sky is a dusty orange colour, yet the water is still as blue as ever. Anakin isn't a fan of water, not really, and he definitely isn't a fan of sand, but when he sees the relaxed expression on Padmé's face as she steps onto the shore, he realises it can't be all that bad. Following her lead, he lets his bare feet sink just a little into the hot sand, feel it shift between his toes. The sand here is finer than that of Tatooine, and it makes him smile because it reminds him of _her._ Naboo is the physical representation of his Padmé, soft and luxurious and tranquil and beautiful. She _is_ one with her home, and it with her.

"I thought you didn't like sand?" she teases, smirking at him as she unwraps her sarong and lets it pool at her feet in a swish of turquoise. He is momentarily paralysed at the sight of her in her swimsuit. It is silver, with a halter top that is cut modestly enough, yet the dip makes his cock twitch in his pants as he catches a hint of her cleavage. His eyes are drawn to the soft curves of her breasts, heaving gently within the fabric with every breath she takes. There is a part of him that yearns to know the colour of her nipples, feel the weight of her breast in his palm, mould the soft flesh through his fingers... he has to look away before he does something he will regret later. Unfortunately, Anakin is drawn to the smooth, pale flesh of her legs that are exposed from the suit. For someone so small, he finds it difficult to believe that her legs could be so long. But it is not an unwelcome sight. His eyes travel the length of her legs, from her dainty feet, to the elegant sweep of her calves, her slender, creamy thighs that flare into beautifully curved hips...

"Ani?" She calls his name and it pulls his attention back to her face. He's slightly grateful, for though her eyes captivate him, it is less dangerous for him to be lingering there, then caught stealing glances at her exquisite figure displayed so sensually before him. Anakin has never witnessed the female form like this before. He's seen Obi-Wan naked as many times as he can remember. But seeing _Padmé_ like this, teasing him with glimpses of perfect skin makes his blood pulse loudly through his veins and his throat dry.

He shakes his head and blinks, trying to remember what is what she had said before he'd gotten distracted by _her._ "It's grown on me," he responds quickly. "Besides, sand has it's... advantages."

Padmé laughs again and then makes her way out to the water. When she's knee deep, she turns back and flashes him a blinding grin. "Are you going to join me?" She reaches out to him, beckoning him into her arms, and Anakin goes to her, because there is nothing in the galaxy that can make him refuse such a request. The water is surprisingly cool as it washes over his feet. After his rigorous training, it is a welcoming sensation. He wades out a little further, trying not to flinch as the water splashes his thighs and lower belly. Once he reaches Padmé, she grins at him, "see, water isn't all bad, now, is it?", and then she turns and dives away from him, a dainty little splash left behind her. When she doesn't immediately resurface, he panics that maybe she has drowned, and frantically scans the surface of the water, trying to catch a glimpse of her. Her face breaks the water, reappearing mere inches from his own, and she giggles at the worried expression on her face.

"Oh, Anakin, _relax_ ," she chastises lightly and sends a wave of water at his face. His reflexes are quick, however, and he parries the blow off to the side using the Force, making Padmé raise her eyebrows. "Impressive," she remarks. "But I bet I could beat you to that island over there." She points to the small island in the middle of the lake.

Anakin notices the challenging tone of her voice, testing him, and he responds with a knowing smirk of his own. "Is that a challenge, milady?"

Her top lip quivers into a teasing smile, dark eyes flash with mischief. "If you are game, my Jedi protector?"

Barking a laugh, he ducks his head, bobbing quickly underneath the water, before resurfacing his, shaking his head and spraying water everywhere. His padawan braid whips his neck, but he ignores it, fixing Padmé with a determined glare. "I hope you realise this is not a fair game," he informs her. "I do not know how to swim."

Padmé only laughs again. "I'm sure you will figure it out." And then she's away, swimming towards the island and Anakin only takes a second to comprehend what is happening before he is after her. He feels uncoordinated, and struggles to figure out when the appropriate time is to breath, and when he looks up, he sees she is far ahead of him. However, he is a Jedi, and has an great advantage over her. Grinning slyly, he continues swimming, letting the Force guide him, pull him along, faster than he would have been if swimming naturally, and he is moving closer and closer towards her. Padmé looks behind her and sees him approaching, and begins kicking harder, moving her arms faster, but it is without avail. Anakin speeds past her, though his technique is severely lacking, and when he makes it to the island first, he lets out a cry of triumph, a wide grin on his face.

As Padmé reaches the island, she glares at him, her lips forming a pout and smooths her wet hair out of her eyes. "You used the Force again, didn't you?" she accuses him as she treads water.

Shrugging, Anakin grins. "You didn't explain the rules, milady."

Her expression softens a little and she nods in admittance. "You have terrible technique."

"My teacher has yet to _teach_ me," he reminds her with a wink and she flushes prettily. If possible, she is even more beautiful like this, her hair wet and shiny, water clinging to her eyelashes, the cleft of her upper lip, twinkling on her cheeks as they catch the light of the afternoon sun. Her skin sparkles like polished marble.

"Well," she begins, moving closer to him and taking his flesh arm in her hand. "For one thing, you are far too choppy. You need to lengthen your strokes," she pulls his arm forward until it is fully stretched out, manipulating it through the water, twisting his shoulders, to mimic the act of swimming. She then does the same with his other arm, before asking him to practice. She's right beside him as he does, tilting his head gently to the side to show him how to breathe, her hand resting on his lower belly to keep his hips straight. "Trust the water," she tells him in soothing tones. "It will keep you afloat. All you are doing is manipulating the water around you." After a few attempts, he begins to understand, and is soon gliding through the water with the ease and grace of a practiced swimmer. He swims around the island, making sure to remember to count his breathing, and returns to her, swimming right up to her so their faces are mere millimeters apart.

"How did I do?" he whispers as he treads water.

She swallows again, a habit he has noticed she does whenever she is nervous. "You're a fast learner," she praises him with a soft smile. "Now, come. I want to show you something." Padmé heads out towards a set of cliffs at the edge of the lake, and Anakin swims along beside her. It surprises him how peaceful this is, the sense of calm that it brings him. Never would he had guessed that he would ever enjoy swimming, child of the desert that he is, but he begins to understand Padmé's passion for it. The cool water provides a sense of tranquility for his mind and soothes his aching muscles in a way he'd never thought possible.

They reach the edge of the cliffs and Padmé takes his hand. "Hold your breath. We're going under for a bit."

"You didn't bring me here to drown me, did you?" he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, raising an eyebrow at her.

Giggling, she shakes her head. "Oh, Ani, where's your sense of adventure?" That sparks his competitive edge, and he follows her lead, inhaling deeply and holding his breath as Padmé pulls him under the water. They swim like that for a bit, and Anakin can't see anything for the water is so murky and dark, but if he reaches out with the Force, he can see edges and knows they are swimming through a gap of some sort. How Padmé knows where she is going is beyond him, yet he trusts her completely.

Just as his lungs start screaming in his chest for oxygen, he is pulled to the surface. As soon as his head breaks the water, he gasps, and the flood of air to his lungs is the sweetest taste in the world. Once he has recovered, he takes a moment to regard his surroundings. It's not what he expected. They are in some sort of cove, and it is dark except for the light that spills through a hole in the roof of the cavern, illuminating a cascading waterfall that is shrouded in mist. It is considerably more humid than outside, and yet Anakin feels more comfortable here. It is less daunting than being surrounded by such a large expanse of open water. Padmé eyes him curiously, as if gauging his reaction.

"Where are we?" he asks, casting his eyes to the roof, making out the shadows of moss and slime covering the rock.

She follows his gaze. "It's a cove," she explains wistfully. "Sola and I found it when we were kids. We know every inch of this lake."

Anakin nods and releases her hand, swimming over to the waterfall. Where the water he is treading in is warm, the water raining down on his face is cold. It makes for an unusual contrast of sensations. He tips his head back, closing his eyes, letting the droplets bounce of his face, when he senses her presence next to him. Haloed in mist, she has never looked more like an angel to Anakin then right now. Her lips are parted in awe, and they are so inviting that Anakin has to bite down on his own to keep from kissing her. Unconsciously, his hands settle on her hips and hers rest on his forearms, fingers lazily caressing the cords of sinew and cold metal. The way she is looking at him makes him come undone. He has to do something before he ruins the scrap of self control he's desperately holding on to. "Padmé..."

She shushes him, pressing a finger against his lips and Anakin can't move, can't breathe. He is paralysed by fear, by anticipation, by _longing._ Oh, how he wants her. Her finger then trace lightly along the line of his jaw, her dark eyes following the movement. Her touch sends fire licking across his skin, electricity shooting down his spine. Desperately, he tries tear his eyes away from her, concentrate on something else, _anything_ else, but his thoughts are clouded. All he can think is _Padmé, Padmé, Padmé._ She's torturing him, surely, toying with him just to let him go, for the fun of it, as she's done to him ever since she came back into his life. He'll take it though, the sweet agony of it all. Anakin knows he'll come back time and time again, let her hold his heart in her palm and squeeze it until he can't take anymore, and then soothe his words with a gentle word, or a sweet smile, because he _loves her_.

Before he realises what's happening, her lips are on his and he feels like he's flying. They are soft, so _infinitely_ soft against his own and his eyes close immediately at the blissful pleasure of it. He can barely feel her hand cupping his jaw, or the other snaking up around his neck. All he can feel is her lips as they move slowly against his. It's not the first time she's kissed him, but somehow it feels infinitely better than the last time. She tastes wet and sweet and fresh, like strawberries, and she angles her mouth against his, her little tongue brushing delicately against his bottom lip. Anakin doesn't know what to do. He should stop this. It's _wrong._ He made a promise. A promise to Obi-Wan, to _himself._ A cruel voice reminds him that his promise was shallow from the beginning. He was a fool to think he could ever give her up. He's in too deep, loves her too much, and the knowledge that she feels the same way, even _half_ of what he feels for her casts anything he's ever said to the wind.

There is no greater feeling in the galaxy than her lips, Anakin swears it. Perhaps the Council would be less quick to dismiss attachments if they had felt anything as delightfully sinful as a woman's kiss. Surely, they don't know what it is they are missing. How can something that feels so wonderful be frowned upon? Anakin could die right here and be content, he knows. Forget Count Dooku, it is Padmé Amidala who is the true Sith. And Anakin succumbs to her power willingly, gives his life for it.

Just when he goes to move his hands from their stationary position on her hips, she makes this little gasp in the back of her throat and jerks away so quickly, as though it disgusts her. The loss of contact makes him ache with longing. Her eyes are wide as she kicks away from him, putting distance between them as though she is scared that if she is too close to him, she'll lose herself again. "No!" she cries in a soft whisper, bringing her fingers to her mouth and staring at him in horror. "We can't... I _can't."_ She's talking to herself more than him. Anakin frowns at her in confusion and moves towards her, when she quickly scoots backwards. "No!" she says again, frantic. "Don't come closer, Anakin!"

He ignores her. "Padmé..."

"NO!" she cries, louder than before, tears falling down her cheeks as she shakes her head violently. "Please! _Please,_ Ani! Just..."

"I won't hurt you, Padmé," he reassures her with a smile. It only makes her sob. She won't stop shaking her head.

"Oh, Anakin," she wails. "It's _me_ who will hurt _you._ " She bites down on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. "Just forget about it, Ani," she begs. " _Please_. It didn't happen. Forget about this, about _me._ It's... it's for the best." And then she ducks under the water and swims away, leaving Anakin alone under the waterfall, feeling confused and hurt.

 _Forget about it?_ How can she ask that of him? Does she regret it? He can't bear the thought, because regret is the last thing he feels. It's the furthest thing from his mind. _She's right,_ a voice reminds him. He's supposed to be letting her go. Not giving into his feelings, especially not _kissing her._ If Obi-Wan knew... he tries not to dwell on that. Clenching his fists, he lets out a cry of agony, of rage, at himself, at Padmé, at the Council. _Force,_ at the fucking galaxy! For giving him love and not letting him keep it. It's not fair.

Once he has calmed down somewhat, he swims back underwater and resurfaces at the cliffs. The sun is so low on the horizon now, it's almost dark. Up on the shore, he sees Padmé frantically running towards the villa. Anakin doesn't know how he's going to get through dinner, but he suddenly has no appetite.

 _Master, what do I do?_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Well, here it is. The long awaited update. I'm sorry for taking so long. Updates will be less frequent now because I'm starting uni again and have 2 jobs as well, but I will do my best to keep it within a monthly updating schedule!**_

 _ **Trust me, I am not deserting this story. It just takes time to write, that's all. So please, please bear with me and don't give up on me :) I really love all the support and encouragement.**_

 _ **Poor Padmé. The poor darling.**_

 _ **Side note: I'm pretty sure everyone in this fandom loves Dormé and I am no exception. I picture her as a bit of a sass-queen, to be honest.**_

* * *

All Padmé wants is to be alone. She doesn't want to - _can't bear the thought of_ \- facing Anakin right now. Not after what has just transpired between them. She kissed him. _She kissed him._ She, Padmé Amidala had kissed Anakin Skywalker, and it had been the single greatest and simultaneously the single worst decision of her life. It definitely hadn't been planned. Padmé had had no intention of kissing Anakin when they went into that cove. She doesn't know what had come over her. Maybe it was the romantic, secluded environment, or the fact that he had looked so gorgeous with the mist swirling around him and the light catching his eyes. Either way, she had kissed him.

 _Oh_ , what a kiss it had been. She brings her fingers to her mouth at the memory. It's nothing new. She's kissed him before, twice, in fact, but this time it had been different. It had been... _passionate._ Whereas before their kisses had been sweet and delicate, this had been something else entirely. It had made her blood boil, her heart race, her pulse quicken and... if she was being honest with herself, it had _aroused_ her. His lips had felt so soft and warm against hers and she'd never wanted it to end, could have remained attached to his lips for the rest of her life. It's foolish, she knows, to entertain such notions when she knows nothing can ever happen between them. But he's just so utterly _delicious_ that she can't help herself.

 _Pull yourself together,_ she curses inwardly as she enters her bedchamber. Dormé is waiting for her, smiles as she approaches and takes the towel from her. "Did you have a nice swim, milady?" she asks, kindly.

"It was fine," Padmé responds brusquely, not wanting to dwell on just how _nice_ her swim had been... or lack of swimming, thereof. Her handmaiden eyes her suspiciously but says no more and goes to hang her towel over the railing to dry. "Would you be able to run a bath for me?" She needs to wash away her disgrace, clear her mind and let herself sink into the bubbles and soap. Maybe, she might drown. At least then, she wouldn't have to face Anakin at dinner.

Her handmaiden doesn't seem to hear her. "Whew," she whistles in appreciation and Padmé looks up to see her peering over the railing at something beneath her. "That Jedi of yours is _quite_ a specimen, isn't he?"

"Dormé!" she rolls her eyes at her handmaiden's blatant perving, even though she definitely agrees with her, wholeheartedly, completely. Anakin is something to behold, that's for sure. "He's a Jedi. You should show him some more respect." Not that she hadn't been doing the exact same thing only moments earlier, not that she hasn't been thinking about Anakin being half-naked every moment since. Her handmaiden doesn't need to know that.

"What?" Dormé blinks at her innocently, causing Padmé to scoff. "There's no law against looking. And you can't blame me," she adds. "He's the one parading around half-naked..."

Padmé rolls her eyes. "Stop _ogling_ and run me a bath. Or should I call for Sabé instead?" she teases and her handmaiden laughs good-naturedly, shaking her head and heading into the bathing room.

"As you wish, milady." The bath water starts to run and Padmé strips out of her wet bathing suit, placing it in her laundry hamper and then follows her handmaiden into the bathing room. "You know," Dormé continues as she pours soap into the hot water, causing bubbles to foam and glide along the top. "You can deny it all you want, Padmé, but I know you have feelings for him."

She tries not to let the statement bother her, tries for ignorance, but it doesn't quite work, for she makes this little noise of protest in the back of her throat that causes her handmaiden to lift her head. "Who?" she squeaks pathetically. For a senator, she is doing a terrible job of acting nonchalant. If she were before the Republic Senate, she would be eaten alive. Luckily, she is only before her handmaiden, so it doesn't get to her as much.

"Your Jedi," Dormé explains with an exaggerated drawl, raising an eyebrow at her mistress.

Padmé snorts. "Anakin is not _my_ Jedi. He's..." It's hard to find the words to describe him. What exactly _is_ he to her? _The love of my life,_ a snide voice tells her and she immediately ignores it. It will do no good to think of him like that. "An old friend," she settles for instead. It's not a lie. Not really. They are old friends, at least, that is the charade they display before the world. "And a Jedi."

"Who you want to sleep with," her handmaiden accuses with a mischievous grin.

"I don't - " Padmé stutters, immediately trying to defend herself, when she realises she has no need to. She doesn't have anything to defend, she doesn't want to sleep with Anakin - _liar_ \- and he narrows her eyes, glaring at her handmaiden. "You've overstepped, Dormé. Leave me." Her voice is cold, it is not like her to speak to her handmaidens this way. They have known each other for years and Padmé considers them close enough to be her sisters. Yet, her pride and dignity has been compromised and it's the only thing she can do to protect herself. Dormé, sensing her mistress's anger, immediately begins stammering apologies, bowing respectfully, but Padmé is tired and just wants to be alone. "Leave me, please. I will call for you when I'm ready."

"As you wish, milady."

Once alone, Padmé sighs and gently lowers one foot into the bath. The hot water scalds her skin and sends shivers up her legs and she has to bite her lip. After a while, she becomes accustomed to the temperature and lets her other leg join, until she's knee deep. Bubbles collect at her ankles and she toes them gingerly, before gaining courage and slowly sitting down. Her salty skin sizzles and tingles as the hot water sloshes around her body. She takes a moment before sinking even lower, so the water line sits just above her breasts and closes her eyes.

Immediately, her thoughts wander, as they often do, to Anakin. She's always thinking about him, in one way or another. Wondering if he is okay, worrying about him, but lately, her thoughts have been a little more... _sinful_ in nature. Despicable. Delicious. Ever since he'd first put his hands on her body, the lightest of touches when he had ran his knuckles across the skin of her back, she'd dared to imagine how his hands would feel touching other parts of her, smoothing all over her body, gripping her hips while he kisses her neck in raw passion. Padmé knows she shouldn't think about him this way, but she can't help it. She's in love with him, and in lust with him, and she _wants him._ Badly.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she recalls how he had looked, standing bare chested before her, with only a pair of loose swim shorts slung low around his lean hips. It's so clear in her mind it's almost as though he's standing there before her right now, all smooth golden skin and hard, lean muscle. Anakin has always been gorgeous, with those stunning eyes and that mischievous smile, but now Padmé has a whole new appreciation for just how _beautiful_ he truly is. From the elegant curves of his bicep and deltoids, to the broad, chiseled chest and taut muscles of his abdomen, to the sharp, angular lines of his hips that disappear below the waistband of his swim shorts and long athletic legs - he's every erotic fantasy Padmé has ever had brought to life. Even his mechanical arm, the foreign metal appendage that she thought would repulse her, only adds to his appeal in her eyes, evidence of his bravery, of the sacrifices he has made to the Republic.

She sighs as she feels the familiar tingle of arousal between her legs and lets her fingers wander, down towards her breasts to slowly trace her right nipple in slow, sensuous circles. It's already hardened at the mere _thought_ of Anakin and she shivers. Taking the pebbled peak between thumb and forefinger, she tugs at it gently, all the while imagining _his_ hands doing this, the calloused pads of his fingers manipulating her body. She wonders if he'd be soft and gentle with her, or rough and fierce, and Padmé can't decide which she would prefer, but is so tightly wound that she knows she wouldn't care when it came down to it. It's enough to rouse a whimper out of her and she arches her back just a little. Her clit throbs for friction at the apex of her thighs and so she appeases it, widening her legs to slip her other hand between them. A hiss slips past her teeth when she brushes across the sensitive bundle of nerves and her hips twitch desperately, craving something she _knows_ she can never have but wants just the same. Instead, she has to settle for her own fingers.

Though still a virgin, Padmé is not unfamiliar with her own body. Over the years, she has often had to rid of her pent up sexual frustration this way. Lately, however, she has been forced to relieve herself more often than usual. Almost once a day, now. And it's all because of Anakin. The tension between them, the electricity, the chemistry... it's enough to make her explode. Sometimes, she finds it so difficult to control herself around him and act like the respectable senator she is, when in reality, she wants to launch herself at him in such a pure, _primal_ way. Surely, he must know what he does to her, how he works her up. He _has_ to. Her facade of nonchalance is becoming more and more difficult to hide behind. Just a glance from those intoxicating blue eyes and she comes undone... it's like he can see right through her, into her very soul.

"Ani..." she moans softly and undulates her hips against her furiously working fingers. It sickens her that it has come to this, but at the same time, she _needs_ this, so desperately, so _terribly bad_. A part of her contemplates how wrong it would be, to have him, just for a night. Just for the _experience,_ to satisfy both their needs before she sends him back to war. Maybe it would do them both some good, release their burning desire for each other so that it's no longer an issue. It's a good solution in theory, but Padmé knows it wouldn't be enough. Her feelings for Anakin are more than purely physical. She loves _him_ , loves his unique, passionate soul, the fire that fuels his emotions, the way he cares so much about her, the way he jokes with her and makes her laugh. It's unlike anything she's ever felt, the way she feels when she's with him and Padmé knows that if she ever gave into her feelings, even just for one night, she'd never be able to let him go.

Her breath quickens as she feels herself approaching the brink and bites down so hard on her lip to keep from crying out as she roughly thumbs her clit. The bitter, metallic taste of her blood fills her mouth as she shudders violently and comes undone, _hard_ , falling over the edge so fast that her eyes roll back in her head. She's weightless, unconscious, aware of nothing but the pleasure she feels as she floats in oblivion. It's several moments before her body slumps lower into the bath, numb and lazy and pliant. Her thighs tremble and twitch in the aftermath of her orgasm and she keeps her eyes shut while she attempts to gain control of her breathing. _You're a fool, Padmé,_ she tells herself and rises, letting the water cascade over her body. If she didn't want to see Anakin before, she definitely doesn't now. Not after what she has just done, to the _thought of him_ , nonetheless. It's disgusting and embarrassing and Padmé doesn't know if she will be able to look him in the eye.

She calls for Dormé and wraps herself in her thick, white robe. Her handmaiden is waiting for her in her quarters and immediately sits her down at her dresser and begins combing the tangles from her damp hair, before fluffing it dry with a towel. Soon enough, her hair is back to it's natural curl, but she asks Dormé to do it up. She knows how much Anakin loves it when she wears her hair down, he's told her so before, and she doesn't want to give him cause to compliment her. Her poor, aching heart can't handle it. Matching the theme, she choose one of her more modest Naboo gowns, though her handmaiden originally suggests the tight black, corset gown she'd worn before. She immediately decides against this. The last time she wore it, Anakin had confessed his feelings for her and she couldn't risk the same thing happening again. Instead, she wears a long-sleeved purple gown made of fine silk, with a modest neckline and a golden sash around her middle. It is as close to the outfits she wears at the Senate, which she hopes will keep Anakin at bay.

Once dressed, she heads downstairs to the dining hall, to find Anakin already waiting for her. He senses her before she announces herself and turns, flashing her a sheepish smile that makes her heart flutter madly in her chest. "Padmé," he greets her, bowing slightly, all polite and formal and yet it only makes him more attractive.

"Anakin," she returns, inclining her head, trying not to focus on how handsome he looks in his Jedi robes.

The two of them take their seats at opposite ends of the long, mahogany table. An uncomfortable silence exists between them. Neither one meets the other's eyes. His head is poised to the empty plate in front of him and Padmé watches him carefully, wondering what he is thinking. Whether he is thinking about the kiss. When he lifts his head, she hurriedly looks away, darting her gaze to the wide, open windows, watching as the sun sets below the horizon. They're being ridiculous. They're both adults, surely they can talk about this in a sensible, mature fashion, instead of avoiding each other?

Wanting to break the silence, she asks him the first question that comes to mind. "Are you hungry?" It's a safe question, she feels.

"Quite," he responds, quickly.

"Well, you're in luck," she says with a smile. "Sabé has made quite a feast for us, I believe. I asked her not to make it very hot because I know you can't handle spice, but I hope you like it - " she's rambling, but all of a sudden she feels nervous and it's her coping mechanism, trying to make the atmosphere less uncomfortable by filling it with babble.

Anakin chuckles at her. "It's not that I can't handle spice," he tells her. "I'm just not used to it. Food back at the Temple is very bland."

"Oh, of course," she nods, feeling her cheeks flush. "I didn't mean you couldn't _handle it_ \- I'm sure if... if you were given the change you'd learn to like it, but - "

"Padmé," he interrupts her and the way he's looking at her makes her swallow thickly. Why does he have to be so beautiful? "I'm sure I will enjoy whatever Sabé has made for us."

She nods timidly and silence ensues once again. The way she was acting, spluttering like a child, makes her groan inwardly. For a normally well-spoken senator, it surprises her how quickly she turns to goo in Anakin's presence. It's _pathetic._ Luckily, Anakin looks just as uncomfortable as she is, which makes her brighten a little. She's not the only one. The few minutes that pass before Sabé brings out the first course feel like hours, and the pair of them are too preoccupied with filling their plates to talk to each other. The only sound that is made is the clinking of metal forks and knives against china plates. Second and third courses follow swiftly and Padmé begins to regret eating so much. She flicks her eyes shyly across to Anakin to see him enthusiastically shoveling food down his throat as though he hasn't eaten in weeks. His manners are somewhat lacking, but she finds it endearing all the same. As though he senses her eyes on him, he looks up, and swallows quickly.

"What is it?" he asks, self-consciously, instinctively bringing his hand up to wipe his mouth.

Padmé merely smiles fondly at him. "Nothing, Ani," she assures him. "I'd just forgotten how much you eat."

He flushes adorably and she suddenly wants to kiss him again, because he's just so gorgeous and she can't even handle it. "Sorry," he apologises meekly. "I - I can't... it's just... everything's so - "

"It's okay, Ani. Do you like it?"

Nodding ardently, he grins at her. "It's delicious. So much better than anything at the Temple."

"What kind of food do you have at the Temple?" she asks curiously, setting her knife and fork across her plate.

Anakin takes another mouthful, swallows, then continues. "Oh, you know, lots of fruit and vegetables, and lean meats," he explains. "I mean, it's not _bad._ It's better than when I was... back on Tatooine." Padmé notes sadly how his voice breaks off at the mention of his childhood as a slave and it sends a pang of agony through her heart. "It's just... _boring -_ there's no flavour."

"Well," Padmé grins. "Make the most of this then. Naboo cuisine is _all_ about flavour."

"Oh, I know." There it is, that sly little smirk that does such wicked things to her and she quickly averts her eyes before she gives herself away. She hears him chuckle darkly but doesn't dare meet his eyes because she might not being able to stop herself from leaping across the table and having her way with him. Fortunately, she is saved by the reappearance of Sabé, who takes away their plates and brings out the final course, dessert. It's her favourite, Four Blossom Bread, something she had made as a child with her sister many times. She thinks of it as her specialty; though she has not had many opportunities to cook in her life. The sight and smell makes her mouth water a little and she eagerly tucks in to the piece in front of her. This time, it is _she_ who disgraces herself and Anakin who watches in amusement, much to her embarrassment.

"Do you not like dessert?" she asks when she notices that he's only had one bite. It's a difficult thing for her to fathom, because Padmé is an absolute sweet tooth and she can't believe there would be a single person in the world who doesn't share her love of dessert.

Anakin shrugs. "I'm just not used to it," he explains. "It's too _sweet._ "

She snorts in exasperation. "Don't tell me you're not allowed dessert at the Temple? That's - that's _inhumane_!"

He laughs at her outburst, a delightful twinkle in his eye. "Nope. No desserts. No sweets."

"Well," she scoffs, giving him a once over. "No wonder you look so... _healthy."_ It's the only substitute she can come up with for _sexy_ , but Anakin quirks an eyebrow at her anyway, no doubt understanding her hidden meaning. "Still, you're on vacation," she grins. "You're free to indulge in whatever you want."

His eyes meet hers for a second and she has to remind herself to breathe. "Not everything," he mutters under his breath, barely audible, but Padmé hears it. It causes her to flush and cast her eyes down to her plate, suddenly embarrassed. It's alarming how bluntly honest Anakin is sometimes. There's no subtly, to slight, carefully planned hints. He says what he means. It's so different from the men in her world, back at the Senate. It shocks and intrigues her simultaneously, one of the things she loves about him.

They spend the rest of the evening in silence, eating dessert and stealing shy glances at one another. Once they are finished, Padmé announces that she wishes to retire to her bed, and Anakin nods, rises, and then accompanies her. She is acutely aware of his body next to hers, can feel the heat radiating off of him as they walk in silence, and she wills herself not to reach for his arm. They stop at her door and she opens it, before turning and facing Anakin. He blinks at her, with expectation in his eyes as though he's waiting for her to speak and she knows this is the moment, the moment she tells him she loves him and kisses him and pulls him into bed with her. He's so close to her, she can see every detail on his face, from his incredibly long eyelashes, to the fine blond hairs that decorate his upper lip, and _oh,_ he's so beautiful.

Her voice catches in her throat when she goes to open her mouth and she swallows thickly, feeling heat rising in her cheeks. "Goodnight, Anakin," she says softly. She watches the way his eyes scan her face, meeting hers, then darting lower towards her mouth and she knows that he's thinking about it too, and part of her wants him to just take charge for once and kiss _her._ Padmé is always the instigator. She wants to be caught by surprise just once, swept of her feet.

To her disappointment, Anakin only inclines his head and whispers, "Goodnight, milday," before he turns and heads towards his own room. Padmé watches his retreating form, feeling more frustrated and miserable than she's possibly ever felt. Closing her eyes, she storms inside and slams the door.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: *grins maniacally* The cliffy is harsh. I hope you'll forgive me. Also, I like the idea that Padmé writes a list - it's such a Padmé thing to do.**_

 _ **Enjoy xx**_

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Padmé doesn't think she can feel any worse than how she currently feels as she wakes from her dreamless, restless sleep. As she rises and looks herself over in the mirror on her vanity, she sighs. Yes, she definitely looks how she feels. Tired and frustrated and miserable. It seeps out of her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes, the heavy lids, the messy chestnut curls that frame her face. She yawns and rubs her eyes slowly. Part of her wants to crawl back into her bed and disappear under the covers. To sleep away the pain, the constant ache that resides in her chest from being with Anakin but not truly _having_ him. It hurts more than she cares to admit. There are times where she just wants to hide herself in a dark room and cry until her eyes run out of tears, but she is a stronger woman than that. She will not cry. _No_. Padmé Amidala will suffer gracefully and when the time comes, she will wish him farewell without a single tear, because she is too proud to let him know how much this affects her.

Dormé arrives momentarily to tame her hair into something of a shadow of it's previous lusciousness and conceal the evidence of her lack of sleep, yet no amount of makeup can hide the pain that simmers in her brown eyes. Without a word to her handmaiden, she dismisses her silently with a wave of her hand and goes to wrap a thin robe around her shoulders. She is too tired to speak. In her misery, she almost forgets to put on her slippers, before she heads downstairs for breakfast.

She expects to find Anakin there, waiting for her, and is surprised, and disappointed, when he is not. It's something she had gotten used to when they were here together, when he was her Jedi protector and she was in hiding. Seeing his face, his stunning smile, first thing in the morning. In his place, is C3PO, who greets her formally when he notices her enter.

"Senator Padmé," the protocol droid titters. "It is _good_ to see you."

Padmé smiles at him, another reminder of how brilliant her Ani is. It's hard to believe that a nine-year-old boy was capable of constructing a fully functional, protocol droid, but the evidence is standing right in front of her. "Hello, Threepio," she says kindly as she takes a seat at the dining table. An assortment of native Naboo fruit lies before her, bright and colourful and tempting, and for a moment, she forgets how tired and miserable she feels and helps herself. "This is certainly a surprise."

"Master Ani almost left me behind," Threepio says, his robotic voice sounding insulted. "That good Captain Typho brought us here this morning. They only found us because R2D2 had decided to try and operate the transport." He shook his head like an exasperated mother. "He almost piloted us _here_ , with me on board!" Padmé can't help but laugh at the droid. Sometimes, she notices the similarities between her own R2 droid and Anakin. She believes that they would make a fine pair. They certainly have the same knack for spontaneity.

"Have you seen Anakin this morning?" she inquires as casually as possible, when her heart is yearning to see him. They only have a week together before he must leave her and she wants to make the most of every second spent together, even if it's just being in his presence.

Threepio turns and shuffles over to the window. "Master Ani went for a walk, my lady. R2 is with him."

Nodding, Padmé continues eating her breakfast, though every fibre of her being wants to look for him. She will not disrespect herself, and go chasing him around Naboo. She will wait for him to come to her, like a lady. It's as she sits there, with the morning sunlight bathing her skin as it spill through the large, wide windows, that she realises she has made a terrible mistake. She never should have brought Anakin here. She tempted fate, and it only served to make her feelings grow even stronger, make it harder to comprehend letting him go and now, there was only one thing left to do.

And so, being the pragmatic person that she is, she bids farewell to Threepio and goes back upstairs to her quarters, where she immediately asks Dormé for a piece of paper and a pen. When her handmaiden returns with the required implements, Padmé dismisses her and stares purposefully down at the blank sheet of paper, hand poised ready to write.

 _Reasons why I should let go of Anakin Skywalker_ , she writes elegantly in smooth, curled lines across the top of the page. It seems childish, even to her, but she knows it's the only thing she can do. She must think logically about this, because whatever she ultimately decides at the end of this week will no doubt affect her for the rest of her life, and she needs to think everything through, cover every possible outcome, so that she can justify her decision. As a child, Padmé would often make these sort of lists when it came to making a decision and, even now with matters in the Senate, it is her way of covering all bases and making rational decisions. So, it's only natural that she resorts to the same task here, in regards to Anakin.

The most glaringly obvious reason comes to her immediately, that she doesn't even feel the need to write it down, but does so anyway.

 _1\. He's a Jedi._

Though Padmé is not familiar with the Jedi Order and it's stringent rules, she knows from conversations with Obi-Wan _and_ Anakin himself, that attachments of any kind are forbidden. It's always made her wonder how such a rule is in place, when there are master and padawan attachments. Anakin and Obi-Wan are definitely closer than she is with any of her fellow senators; there's almost a brotherly relationship between them, a deep love for each other that is so obvious to her. If _they_ can have an attachment, then surely it can't be all bad, but who is Padmé to question to laws that govern the Jedi Order? She knows that Anakin would be expelled if he was found to have any sort of relationship with Padmé that wasn't strictly friendly, and she can't do that to him. No matter how much it pains her.

 _2\. We would have to live in secret._

She's told him this before, the night he had confessed his deep feelings for her and she'd had to deny her own. _"Could you do it, Ani? Could you live like that?"_ Padmé doesn't know if she could. She wouldn't want to live in secret. She would want to show him off, announce proudly to the world that Anakin Skywalker was hers and hers _alone_. Nothing would give her greater pleasure. Having to hide their relationship... pretend they feel nothing for each other, it would kill her. She _knows_ this. A relationship built of lies and deception and secrecy isn't healthy.

 _3._ _We wouldn't have a future._

Even if they hid their relationship from the universe, Padmé knows she would never be able to have a family with Anakin. They wouldn't be able to live together, or raise children together. If she suddenly fell pregnant, questions would be raised, and the Queen would most likely dismiss her as a senator if she gave birth to a fatherless child - at least, to the public eye. Padmé is only twenty-four. She's not thought much about having a family, but she knows that she wants children in her future, and she also knows that _that_ is something Anakin cannot give her. No matter how happy he makes her, or how much she loves him, it wouldn't be enough, in the end.

 _4\. We will constantly be apart._

The Clone Wars have only just begun, and there is no certainty that they will resolve themselves any time soon. It may takes years, perhaps even a decade, before the war is over - though she sincerely hopes that is not the case - and in that time, Anakin will be off fighting with the Jedi. They will be separated, for months on end. She doesn't know if she can handle that amount of separation.

 _5\. There is a war._

Padmé is against violence. She believes that democracy is the way forward, she has always believed that open communication is the _only_ way to resolve issues. However, she is one of few who hold such beliefs. And while the Republic is at war with the Separatists, Padmé, as a senator, should be focusing all her attention of _ceasing_ the war, of coming up with diplomatic solutions, organising peace treaties and opening communication. _Not_ thinking about a forbidden relationship with a Jedi.

The longer her list becomes, the harder it is for Padmé to deny the only logical decision. The evidence is overwhelming, all the odds stacked against her heart's desire. It can't happen. It will only end in heartbreak for the both of them if they strike something up now. But it _hurts_ , oh how painful the truth is. She doesn't want to believe it. And yet, as her eyes scan the page, she knows it will never work. She must end it now, she must do what she promised Obi-Wan. Even though it physically pains her, she must tell Anakin to let her go, that nothing can happen between them, and she has to do it _now_ , because they are running out of time. He will be returning to war at the end of the week and she knows how fragile he is with his emotions. Anakin will need time to heal.

She bites her lip as it quivers, sniffling hard to force the moisture that begins to well in her eyes back, because she promised herself that she wouldn't cry. With a melancholy sigh, she rests her forehead in her hands and closes her eyes, trying to concentrate on her breathing. It's unfair how cruel the universe is; how it teases her with this all-consuming love for a beautiful, fascinating, unattainable boy, dangles him in front of her with whispered promises and shy smiles and delicate touches, but when she goes to him, he only moves further out of her reach. It's torture.

If possible, Padmé suddenly feels even worse than she did when she woke up. Her body is lethargic, slow, all she wants to do is lie in bed, curl up under the covers and avoid all human contact. _Tell him now,_ that annoying, persistent voice demands, but she ignores it with a half-hearted promise of _later._ She is no mood to see the broken look on Anakin's face that will no doubt be there when she tells him to let her go. It would be too much for her poor heart. Wearily, she stands, takes her list with her and tucks it in her drawer underneath her undergarments, before shrugging off her robe and climbing back into her bed. Once she is under the covers, she once again calls for Dormé.

"Are you alright, milday?" her handmaiden asks as she enters, a concerned look on her face.

Padmé whimpers miserably and snuggles further into her bed. "Draw the curtains, please, Dormé. I wish to sleep." The sun is suddenly too bright, too painful. She craves darkness.

"Are you ill?" _Yes_ , Padmé wants to say. She is ill with grief. "Should I call for a medical droid?"

"No, Dormé," she assures her. "I just wish to be alone. Don't allow anyone in to see me, will you, please?"

Her handmaiden clicks her tongue, but does as she is told, drawing the curtains shut. "Not even Master Skywalker?"

She shakes her head. "Especially not Master Skywalker."

Dormé bows politely. "As you wish, milady."

It is only then, when she is sure that no one is watching, that Padmé allows herself to shed a tear for the man she loves more than anything in the universe but can't have.

* * *

"I know, buddy," Anakin says to the droid, who beeps back an argument. "I said I was sorry."

R2D2 doesn't seem impressed with his apology, and beeps rudely, turning his dome-like head several times, lights flashing. Anakin only laughs. He can understand the droid's irritation - he _had_ left both him and C3P0 back at the Palace - accidentally, of course, but to Artoo, it is the greatest insult.

"What can I say? _You_ try thinking clearly when she's around." Of course, he knows that it's all his fault. He and his carelessness, but when he's with Padmé, Anakin can't think of much else except _her._ It's a miracle he remembers to breathe, let alone anything else. Her very presence is intoxicating - he struggles to concentrate around her at the best of times, but here, on Naboo, where she is so relaxed and open, it's even harder to resist her.

Artoo is not impressed and titters at him as they make their way along the beach. After his swim yesterday, Anakin feels more confident around the water, more open to it, that he's even taken off his boots and is walking barefoot across the hot sand. It a nice morning, the sun kisses his face with a warm embrace, and there is a slight breeze that tousles his tunic and cools his skin. The water is impossibly blue, so clear and beautiful that he itches to swim again. Perhaps Padmé will join him later, when he returns, and the thought makes him grin stupidly when he remembers what she looked like in her bathing suit. She always looks beautiful no matter what she is wearing, but there is something so sensual and exciting and _tempting_ about seeing her with so much skin exposed for his pleasure.

"Well, you're not in love with her, are you?" he quips with a smirk. The droid shakes and beeps in a mockery of laughter and Anakin sighs. "Yeah, I know, buddy. Believe me, I know." The pair make their way back up the beach, towards the villa. Anakin can't believe that he gets to spend an entire week here, free of worry, or fearing for Padmé's life. It's the best thing that's happened to him in a long time. The relaxation has done a world of good for his prosthetic arm; he is no longer as cumbersome with his lightsaber as he was merely a few days ago. There is a part of him that can't wait to join his master in the war, an even greater part of him that longs for glory, for victory in battle. And yet, he doesn't want to leave this paradise - because that's what it is, and he especially doesn't want to leave Padmé. Just a few days with her and he's already more in love than he thought was possible.

He knows she feels the same, even though she denies it. He can see it in the way he catches her eying him when she thinks he can't see, the way she flushes prettily when he flirts with her, the way she flirts back in that sensual little whisper of hers that makes him hard, instantly. For the first time in his life, Anakin suddenly wishes he wasn't a Jedi. It would be so much easier if he was just a normal man with a normal job. Of course, Padmé is still a senator, not to mention a former Queen of noble birth and there are expectations for her to marry within her rank and status, but even so, Anakin knows he would have more of a chance if he was a humble mechanic than a Jedi. He'd marry her in a heartbeat, if he could. He's never been so sure about anything in his life, expect that he could spend eternity with Padmé and still feel as deeply for her as he does right now. But it's impossible. Attachments of any kind are forbidden by the Order, and he is pushing his luck as it is. Marriage is definitely off the cards. But it doesn't mean he can't _dream._

"Do you thinks she'll let me keep you?" He muses to Artoo. "There's no need for a senator to have an R2 series, and besides, we make a good team, you and I." Artoo beeps in response and Anakin laughs. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?" The droid turns it's head and flashes at him, which is as good a response as any.

Threepio greets them as they enter the villa and immediately starts bickering with Artoo, causing Anakin to shake his head at the pair of them. He leaves them to it and searches around for Padmé. Surely, she should be up by now, and he wants to go swimming again. He finds Sabé in a drawing room and approaches her.

"Do you know where Senator Amidala is?" he asks, politely. The handmaiden turns and once again, he is struck by how similar she is to his Padmé. It's uncanny. To the untrained eye, the are identical, but Anakin knows the difference. Padmé's eyes are almond-shaped and a dark shade of chocolate, whereas Sabé's are rounder and the colour of caramel. Sabé has a squarer jaw and a longer nose, where Padmé has a heart shaped face. And the handmaiden's skin is a shade darker than the smooth, ivory skin that Anakin fantasises about on a frequent basis. Yes, to the untrained eye, they are the same person, but Anakin Skywalker is an expert in everything to do with Padmé Amidala. He knows her inside out.

"She is in her bedchamber," Sabé responds with a curtsy. "She is not feeling well and wishes not to be disturbed."

All Anakin hears are the words _not feeling well_ and immediately, his demeanour becomes more assertive. He locks his jaw and furrows his eyebrows. " _Ill?_ " he repeats, concern coursing through him. He reaches out a little with the Force until he finds her conscience, probes a little just to see how she is feeling. He is hit with a wave of misery so strong he almost lets out a cry of agony. It's so painful, whatever she is feeling, and he instantly sprints upstairs to her quarters. He can't bear the thought of Padmé in pain. If there is something he can do to make her feel better, he will do it. Even if he has to pilot a ship to Tatooine.

"Padmé!" he calls to her as he knocks on her door. "Padmé! Are you alright?" A flood of worry overwhelms him. Perhaps it was something she ate? Or she has news about her family? Or something terrible happened in the Senate? Either way, he is determined to find out. The door opens to reveal Dormé and Anakin immediately presses her for information. "Is Padmé in there? I need to see her!" He is demanding and impatient but he doesn't care. All that he can think about is _her,_ upset, unwell, and he wants nothing more than to be next to her, to hold her hand and smooth out her hair and cradle her in his arms.

Dormé regards him sadly and shakes her head. "Milady is resting and doesn't wish to be disturbed."

Anakin frowns, a growl slipping past his clenched teeth. "I must see her," he insists, more aggressive than before, and he notices the handmaiden's eyes flicker down to his clenched fists before meeting his once more. A flicker of uncertainty crosses her face, but it only serves to make him more annoyed. He doesn't need the permission of a handmaiden to see his Padmé. No Force alive can stop him from making sure that she is alright. Her safety is paramount, it is what he lives and breathes for.

"I'm sorry, Master Skywalker," Dormé says softly. "But milady gave me strict instructions to let nobody enter."

"She'll want to see me," Anakin argues, taking a step closer. He's in half a mind to haul the handmaiden out the window, and he wouldn't even need the Force to do that. He can sense Padmé in her room, sense her despair, her _pain_ and it kills him. "Please! I have to make sure she's alright! I... I lo - I'm charged with her life!" He's about ready to barge passed the handmaiden and force his way through to her bedchamber, when he hears something.

 _I'm alright, Ani._

Her voice. Soft and light and tired. At first, he thinks Padmé is calling to him from her bed, but when Dormé makes no reaction that she heard anything, he realises that she's communicating with him through the Force, projecting her thoughts so that he can hear them. The knowledge leaves him bewildered. How did she know to do that? The only person Anakin has ever communicated through the Force with is Obi-Wan. To be able to do this, at least a one-way conversation, with Padmé astounds him.

 _I'm alright, Ani. Leave me be. Please._ She sounds so desperate for him to listen to her, even in his mind, that he feels obliged to obey her wishes. Even though he doesn't agree. Even though his body is aching to be with her. Swallowing, he nods his head, runs a hand through his hair, apologises to Dormé, and then returns downstairs.

 _Get well, my love,_ he projects back to her, even though he knows she can't hear him, because she is not Force sensitive. But somehow, he knows that she heard him, for he can feel her gratitude, clouded with misery though her aura is, and ti reassures him that she will be alright.

* * *

"I've gone mad," Padmé mutters to herself as she rises from her bed and pulls her robe around her shoulders. She's spent all day mulling over her decision, weighing the pros and cons, considering every possible outcome and while her head made a logical decision... her heart feels otherwise. It suddenly occured to her, while she was wallowing in her grief, that she doesn't care. She doesn't care if it's the worst decision she's ever made in her life, because nothing, _nothing_ could be more painful than what she's currently feeling. She was a fool to think she could hide her feelings, to let Anakin walk out of her life. She _needed_ him, like water to a parched throat, like oxygen to drowned lungs. Her own happiness rests in her hands, and unless she wants to spend the rest of her life wondering, _longing_ , then she has to do something about it.

And so, she creeps past a sleeping Dormé, and knocks on the secret door that leads to Anakin's room. As though he senses her, the door opens immediately, to reveal a sleepy, gorgeous Anakin and Padmé swallows thickly at the sight of him. He eyes her with concern, an adorable frown on his face. "Padmé...?" he mutters, voice heavy from sleep, and it's the most erotic sound she has ever heard. "What are you doing?"

"Anakin," she begins, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I can't do this anymore!" Tears are falling freely from her eyes and she blinks furiously, frustrated at her own emotions getting the best of her. "I - I tried, I _really tried,_ but I.. I just _can't -_ " her hands are flailing miserably and the way he is looking at her confirms her suspicions that she has actually gone mad, but she can't stop. The waterfall of emotions that she's been holding back for so, so long has finally reached breaking point and now that she's opened the floodgates, she can't hold it back.

He rests his hands on her shoulders and runs them up and down her arms in a gentle, soothing way. Just his _touch_ on her skin makes her bottom lip quiver with need. "Padmé..." he coos softly, ducking his head a little to stare deep into her eyes.

"Anakin, I - " she stumbles over the words, even though she's said them before, because it's so different this time. Before, on Geonosis, she thought they were both going to die. But now, they are both alive, and will probably be alive tomorrow, and telling him her true feelings will change _everything._ It scares her, but she's come this far now so she can't back down. " _I love you._ "

He doesn't say a word. Instead, he cocks his head to the side just a little, as though he's processing the information. Padmé can't bear the silence. "I love you, Ani, and I - I can't deny it any longer. It... it _hurts_ too much." She steps closer to him, reaching for his hands, never taking her eyes off his beautiful, blue ones. His eyes are shining and he looks so, so beautiful that she sobs in spite of herself.

"Padmé," he whispers, reverently, her name falling from his lips like a prayer and he bends to press his forehead against hers. "We... we _can't..._ it's not -"

" - I know," she insists, shaking her head against him. "I made a - a promise... to Obi-Wan... that we could only be friends but I - I _lied."_ She is sobbing uncontrollably now, her entire body shaking, and Anakin grips her arms, steadying her, piercing her with his gaze. "I'm so _selfish,_ Anakin," she hisses in disgust. "After you almost... you were in the medical bay and... your arm! I thought - you could have _died_ and I knew... I _knew!_ " she paused to catch her breath, swallowing the flood of tears that rushed forward. "I can't bear to live a single day without you."

Anakin smiles at her, and it's the most gorgeous smile she's ever seen and, as if it's possible, she falls even deeper in love with him. His hands cradle her face, fingers dancing lightly over her skin and she closes her eyes when he ghosts his lips over her forehead. "Padmé..." he murmurs, voice deathly quiet and oh, so delicate. "Oh, Padmé... my love..." He dusts sweet kisses over every inch of her face, kissing away her tears, smoothing over her brow and she sighs happily, feeling lighter than air. It's like no other feeling in the universe, hearing him say her name like that. It's never sounded more right than dripping from his lips. "Oh, how I love you..."

"Ani..." she exhales, placing her hands on his chest. She can feel his heart thumping wildly against his rib-cage and it makes her smile. "I _need you,_ " her voice has never sounded more desperate or breathless than right now, but he seems to appreciate it, for he rumbles a low growl deep in the back of his throat. "I love you and I need you and I _don't care_ about the consequences because - because _I love you_."

Just when she expects him to take her into his arms and carry her off to his bed, he pulls back a little, suddenly insecure and adorably shy and her heart tightens in her chest with love for him. "You... and you're sure you... you want _this? Me?_ " The way he asks, as though he can't believe that this is happening makes her beam so greatly she thinks she could burst with affection.

She pulls him in tighter, winding her arms around his neck, one hand playing with his padawan braid. "Always, Ani," she assures him, completely sincere. " _Always._ "

Then he seizes her in his arms, crushes his mouth against hers and pulls her into his room.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Yes, I'm still possibly the cruelest, but please don't hate me. I would apologise for the last cliffy, but I'm pretty sure that this one is worse, so I'm just going to have to put up with all your frustration :)**_

* * *

Their lips fused together so forcefully, it releases all of Anakin's pent up frustration and emotion the past few weeks have made him suffer through. Her hands grip his face, her mouth attacks his hungrily, and he returns her passion with an eagerness that surprises even _him_. For the moment, he is aware only of her soft, sweet mouth, moving aggressively against his own. He drinks in his fill of her, relishing how soft and warm she is, how delicious her unique taste is to his ravenous mouth. He doesn't even realise he's been slowly moving backwards until the back of his knees hit the side of his bed. The sensation causes him to start a little, and they both pull away from each other for a moment.

Desire, so pure and clear, swims in those gorgeous brown eyes of hers, and he sweeps his own gaze over her face; her flushed cheeks and her perfect pink lips, swollen from his kisses. That erotic sight does something to him that he can't explain; the idea that _he_ is the man who's making her look like this, that she is all flustered and aroused and breathless because of _him_ , and he feels his cock twitch in approval. With darkened eyes, he is drawn to her teeth sinking into the plump, bruised flesh of her bottom lip, and he boldly cups her face and bends to tug it free with his teeth. She releases this sensual little whimper and then suddenly their mouths are back together, moulding to each other's shape in the most fervent way. It's a high like no other - even the adrenaline of battle is nothing compared to the feeling of kissing Padmé like this. It's desperate and _raw_ and everything he's been craving since the moment he first saw her in Watto's shop on Tatooine, and now that it's finally happening, Anakin never wants to go back.

He's content to just stay like this, just this passive-aggressive mashing of their mouths against each other's, but Padmé has other ideas, it would seem. The press of her little, wet tongue against his mouth makes him part his lips instinctively, and suddenly, she invades him, and he has no idea what to do. The tip of her tongue nudges his, and she presses herself closer to his chest, urging him silently to follow her lead. Anakin is nervous. He's never kissed anyone like this before - he'd never kissed anyone before Padmé, and even then, it was only a sweet brushing of their lips together. _This_ is new territory for him, and he doesn't want to disappoint her, because he can't believe this is finally happening, and the last thing he wants is to make a mess of it all, but he's new to the way of intimacy.

Padmé seems to sense his unease, for she makes this soft little hum and pulls at the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck, as if to encourage him. Tentatively, he touches his tongue to hers and feels her smile against his mouth, so he knows he's doing something right. Gaining courage, he licks further into her mouth, tasting the soft, dewy flesh of her cheek before twining his tongue with hers. Their tongues massage each other, and it's such a new and exciting feeling that Anakin lets out this deep, guttural moan at the pleasurable sensations stirring deep within him. He runs his hand through her undone hair, tilting her head back a little so he can delve further into her willing mouth. It's only when the need for oxygen becomes unbearable that Anakin forces himself to pull away from her, still cradling her face in his hands. He notices how her chest is heaving heavily, similar to his own, and he can't help but smile at her.

"I love you," he whispers, every fibre of his soul aching with it. It's addictive, the power she holds over him. And then he's kissing her again, frantically, because he just can't get enough of her. This woman, this beautiful, brilliant woman, will surely be the death of him. He kisses along the line of her jaw, delicately making his way towards her ear, and he feels her shudder in his arms as his breath ghosts over her skin. "You truly are an angel."

"Oh, Anakin," Padmé sighs, nails scratching at his scalp, and she lets her head fall back a little, exposing the pale column of her throat. The sight of her smooth, flawless ivory skin is so tempting that Anakin is consumed with the need to explore her, and he slowly slides his lips down the side of her neck, dusting her with sweet, wet kisses that make her moan - verbal confirmation that he's doing it right. The sounds go right to his cock, where he's already so hard with _need_ for her.

As he feasts on her neck, suckling softly at the hollow of her throat, her hands slide down his chest and up, underneath the hem of his tunic. Her fingers dance across the skin of his lower abdomen before moving up, up, up, pushing his tunic along with them until the bottom half of his torso is exposed. She groans and Anakin takes the hint, breaking away from her just enough so that he yanks his tunic over his head and tosses it aside. In response, Padmé lets her robe fall to the floor in a silent swish of expensive silk, leaving her in nothing but her thin, white nightgown. They take this moment to drink in each other, and Anakin can't look away from her exquisite form, barely concealed by the near-transparent fabric; the darkened peaks of her nipples, the shape of her thighs, the slender but feminine curves of her hips and waist.

With a shy, tentative smile, she steps closer to him and rests her hands on his chest, over where he knows is his frantically beating heart, and her touch sets his nerves alight. "Anakin," she breathes his name and the way she says it, in her sweet, angelic voice, makes him never want to hear his name spoken again unless it's from her. Padmé presses hot kisses over the hardened muscles of his chest, and Anakin can't help the low moan that slips past his lips as he throws his head back. With a gentle push, she forces him to sit on his bed, and she steps between his legs, smoothing her hands over the muscled broadness of his shoulders. The way she is looking at him, examining him as though he is an unusual species of animal, makes him incredibly nervous. _What are you thinking, my love?_

Then, suddenly, a dangerous flicker lights up her beautiful eyes, and she smiles mischievously at him and Anakin swallows. Letting her hands fall from his shoulders, she runs them down his arms; real and prosthetic, takes his hands in hers and brings them up to rest on her shoulders. He can feel the thin straps of her nightgown under his fingers and thumbs at them absently. Before he realises what is happening, suddenly Padmé is guiding his hands down her shoulders, all the while trapping the straps under his skin and pushing them aside. Anakin freezes as he realises what she's implying. She wants him to take off her nightgown. He swallows again, thickly, hands trembling with terror and nervous anticipation.

"Padmé," he begins, meeting her gaze. Anakin wants to do this right by her, wants to make it as perfect as possible, because his Angel deserves nothing less, but he's also incredibly shy and naive and terribly inexperienced.

"Shhh," she hushes him and flashes him a sweet smile of encouragement, and suddenly all his worries are gone. He nods his head slowly and takes the straps of her nightgown between his fingers, drawing them gently down her slender shoulders until they rest in the crease of her elbows. The fabric hesitates at the curves of her breasts, before it falls elegantly to her waist. She takes her arms out of the straps, all the while looking at him in some form of expectation, but Anakin doesn't even notice her expression because he is captivated by how _achingly_ _beautiful_ she is. His hungry eyes rake over every inch of her flawless skin, the delicate swell of her breasts as they sit high on her chest, rising and falling with her breathing. They are perfect, just like everything else about her; small and tear-dropped shaped, her pretty pink nipples _begging_ for him. As a Jedi, Anakin believes in no deity, only the Force. But at the sight of Padmé, he suddenly feels the need to fall to his knees in front of her and pledge his eternal devotion. Because he's imagined this, dreamed of this moment, and yet his imagination hadn't even come close.

"You're so…beautiful," he manages to utter, forcing his mouth to do something rather than just gape at her in awe. He longs to touch her, to mould her breasts in his hands, to suck a nipple into his mouth and roll it with his tongue, but he makes no attempt to move. She is too perfect; far too perfect to be tainted by him.

The compliment causes her to blush, and she steps even closer to him. "Ani..." she blinks at him shyly. "Touch me." The way she says it, all soft and timid and yet so determined - it's hard to refuse such a request. Especially when he wants to, so badly. Still, he doesn't want to tarnish her. His turmoil must be written all over his face, for she reaches out and lightly touches his fingertips with her own, as encouragement. Those eyes stare at him with such certainty, and he finds himself nodding, and reaching out to her with his flesh arm. He wants to feel her skin under his own, _real_ fingers, for the first time; and his prosthetic does not deserve her.

The moment his fingers lightly trace the swell of her left breast, Padmé exhales deeply, which leaves him wondering if _she_ has longed for this moment as much as he has. He explores her slowly, taking his time, plying the soft flesh, testing the weight of it in his palm, marvelling how she fits perfectly in his hand - like she is made for him and him _alone_. As he does, his thumb accidentally grazes her nipple and she gasps. For a moment he freezes, afraid that he has hurt her, until she's calling his name, _begging_ for him to do it again. He obliges, running his thumb over her nipple and taking it between his fingers, and she rewards him with high, feminine gasps of pleasure that go right to the throbbing erection in his sleep pants. Her pleased responses embolden him, and, taking her hips in both his hands, he pulls her closer to him and puts his mouth on her.

At first, Anakin simply kisses the soft flesh of her breast naively, sliding his lips over her breastbone to attend to the neglected breast until Padmé takes matters into her own hands and arches her back into him, silently pleading with him to put his mouth where she wants it. When he presses a sweet kiss to the tip of her hardened nipple, her hands fly into his hair, forcing him to remain where he is. Eager to please her, Anakin flicks out with the tip of his tongue and laps at the puckered peak. Padmé releases a low, erotic moan, and when he raises his eyes to her face, he sees her eyes are closed and her head is tipped back just a little and her lips parted. He takes this confirmation that he is doing something pleasing to her, and he continues his ministrations. Her body goes limp in his arms, and he realises that only his hands on her hips are keeping her upright. It swells his ego that he can cause such satisfying reactions within her. Anakin grows bolder still, ever the risk-taker, and takes her nipple between his lips and sucks...hard.

" _Oh,_ " she gasps, gripping his hair so hard that it's almost painful, but he cares not. All he can focus on is pleasing _her._ He doesn't even need to use the Force to know what she's feeling, but he does so anyway. As soon as he dips into her signature, he is hit with white hot pleasure. It is so intense it causes him to open his eyes, just for a second, as he feels the full extent of what he's doing to her, the emotions he's stirring inside her. He basks in it, lets it flow through him from her, heightening his own sense of arousal. Tightening his grip on her hips possessively, he yanks her forward, pushing her breast into his mouth, and she falls into him, knees coming up to straddle his waist on the end of his bed.

He can feel her heat as she grinds herself against the tent in his pants and a gasp tears out of him, which makes her giggle. Anakin flushes with embarrassment and pulls away, so that she is sitting in his lap. Padmé pouts at him, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and there's a fierce look of determination in her eyes. There's no doubt in Anakin's mind that she _knows_ what she's doing to him, and for some reason, he feels ashamed. They shouldn't be doing this. Even if he wasn't a Jedi, he knows that it would still be wrong. He has no right to touch her this way, to be feeling these things for her. He has no _claim_ to her. It isn't right.

"Padmé…" he tries again, to tell her they need to stop. Because he knows he won't be able to if she keeps rubbing herself against his erection and making these beautiful, erotic moans. He's close enough to release as it is; she's only making it more difficult to maintain that tiny scrap of self-control he's desperately holding onto. "We… we ca – " She silences his protests with her mouth, swallowing his words and taking his face in her hands.

" _Don't_ ," she pleads against his mouth. " _Please,_ Ani, I… I need – " The words are stuck in her throat, and so she rocks her hips against his, expressing her desire physically. Anakin is helpless to deny her; he will do anything she asks of him, even if he knows it's wrong. He would kill for her, he would die for her – say the word and he would do it. Without question. It is _this_ that the Jedi fear most about attachment, but Anakin doesn't care. And so, he gives in to her plea, wrapping his arms around her back tightly and crushing her to him as their mouths fuse together once more, tongues caressing and mating with driving need.

She whimpers again, and her hips move faster over his, and Anakin may be naïve and innocent when it comes to lovemaking, but he knows what she wants. He wants it, too. It terrifies and excites him all the same. "Ani," she whines, breathless and desperate in his ear. Her dainty hands trail down his bare chest, running delicately over the hard ridges of his abdomen, and even though he knows it's supposed to be a gentle touch, it causes his skin to break out in goose-pimples. A hiss tears out of his chest as she skims her fingers over the waistband of his sleep pants, before purposefully rubbing over his restrained cock. "Just – " She palms him through his clothes, and he can't concentrate on anything as he throws his head back and clenches his jaw tight from the sheer pleasure of her touch. He could come like this, he knows, just like this, and she wouldn't even have to do anything more. It's not even skin to skin contact, but it's already so much more pleasurable than his own hand ever has been.

Anakin doesn't think it can get any better than this, until he feels her wrap her hand around his length and his eyes roll back into his head. " _Force,_ Padmé," he curses, and Padmé rewards him with a cruel tug, slow and timid and unsure, and his thighs twitch in pleasure, and he quickly stills her hand and removes it before he releases too soon. She's panting in his ear, and when he opens his eyes, he notices that she has a hand buried in between her legs, underneath her nightgown bunched at her waist. Taking her wrist, he once again reaches out with the Force. Her projections are so clear; he can see clearly what she's imagining, exactly what she wants, what she's too embarrassed to express in words.

He trails his gaze from her face, down her heaving chest towards her centre. Padmé follows his gaze with trembling lips, before guiding his hand underneath her nightgown. His eyes widen as he feels just how _hot_ she is. Warm. Wet. Slick. _Inviting._ It's like nothing he's ever felt before. She moves his hand, letting his fingers brush through the soft, downy curls, to the folds of her sex, and Anakin is transfixed. He can't believe she's this aroused, _already_ , and it's all because of _him_. He has no idea what he's doing – her breasts were easy enough to figure out, but _this_? It's all so new to him. But Padmé guides him with her own hand, silently instructing him on what she likes. Anakin soaks up the information like a sponge; makes sure to memorise which spots cause her to mewl, which touches make her tremble.

Padmé stills his hand over what he believes to be her opening – from what he can vaguely remember from his anatomy lessons back at the Temple – and he gazes up at her to gauge her reaction. All she does is nod at him, with her lip between her teeth, and so he tentatively pushes his finger inside her, and is not prepared for the moan that tears out of her, as if from the depth of her soul. Her wet walls suffocate his finger, constricting around him so tightly, and it only arouses him even further. Anakin can't believe this is happening. His finger is inside her! The sense of power overwhelms him, and he cups the back of her neck with his durasteel hand and pulls her to his mouth, claiming her roughly with his lips. Vaguely, he wonders if any man has ever touched her this way, and he instantly puffs up full of possessive pride, kissing her aggressively. The very idea that another man may have seen her like this, touched her like this enrages him. Padmé is _his._

"Oh, Anakin," she moans as she undulates her hips over his hand, encouraging him to move, and so he does, slowly dragging his finger out of her wet slickness before plunging back in. He maintains a steady pace, marvelling at how she pulses around him, lifting up her hips and then rocking back down against his hand. The sight of her like this, mouth open, eyes closed, breasts moving up and down along her chest, bobbing like shurra fruit before him – she is breathtaking. She feels so tight around his finger, so hot, and Anakin is overwhelmed by the instinctual _need_ to bury his cock in her. He groans as he imagines it, thrusting himself into her wet heat as she writhes underneath him, feels her contracting around him, milking his seed out of him, and he bites down on his cheek to stop himself from coming. The metallic, sweet taste of blood fills his mouth, and the sting of the wound is enough to distract him from his sinful thoughts. He's never wanted _anything_ so badly as he does Padme at this very moment.

"Ani," Padmé takes his face in her hands, her brown eyes shining in arousal. And then, she bends her forehead so it rests against his, their noses touching, their lips mere millimetres away from each other. Her voice is barely audible as she whispers, "make love to me," but Anakin doesn't even need to use the Force to understand what she's asking him. Nodding shortly, he lifts her by her hips, turns them both around, and lays her gently on his bed. Her eyes drift to his groin and he swallows nervously, before dropping his sleep pants to the floor and stepping out of them. He's so hard, his cock bobs up against his stomach when it's released from its cotton prison. Padmé eyes him curiously, her head cocked to the side, and he blushes under her scrutinising gaze. Then, she raises her hips, slips her nightgown out from under her legs and tosses it to the floor.

She's naked. Padmé Amidala is completely bared to him, _willingly_ , and Anakin can't look away from her. He is in absolute awe of her perfection. Silver moonlight spills through the windows of his bedroom, bathing her in an ethereal glow, and she looks more like an angel than ever. Anakin can't believe it. Can't believe that this divine being could possibly want _him._ Surely, this has to be a dream, and he'll wake to find himself alone in his bed once again with his hand around his cock, as he often does. He blinks his eyes several times, as if willing himself to wake up to reality, when she softly calls his name. Padmé smiles at him, such a beautiful smile, and opens her legs for _him_ , revealing herself to _him_ , beckoning _him_ to come to her. He obliges, crawls towards her as if in a trance, until he's hovering over her, resting his weight on his elbows, nestling between her thighs, and he gazes down at her blissful face.

"Ani, you're trembling," she says, sliding her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. It's only once she says it that he notices _just_ how much he's shaking. His entire body is shuddering, rocking her under him, and he clenches his fists beside her hair, willing himself to stop.

"I – I'm just..." _Nervous,_ he finishes in his head. Anakin has never felt so nervous or scared about anything to the extent that he's currently feeling. He's _terrified._ What if she's had over lovers before? What if he's a total disappointment? He's a novice; he has absolutely no idea what he's doing, and he's more than certain that he will finish far too quickly, and he can't _bear_ the thought of disappointing her. He loves her more than his own life, and she deserves nothing less than perfection. His Padmé deserves so much _more_ than what he can give her. "I mean… I've n-never – " He drops his head, ashamed to even look her in the eyes as he struggles to admit that he's a virgin.

He waits for the disappointed sigh, but it never comes. Instead, she only beams wider up at him and giggles shyly through heavy eyelashes. "Me, neither," she admits softly, blushing prettily. The knowledge both surprises him and thrills him, and he stares at her incredulously.

"R-really?" he asks, unable to keep the relief from his voice. At least she won't have anyone to compare him to.

Padmé frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice is sharp, like the expression on her face.

"Nothing," he assures her quickly, flashing her what he hopes is a charming smile. "I just – well, you're so… so beautiful,and you're a senator, and you're b-brilliant and I just – well, I just assumed that you'd, y'know…" he eyes her sheepishly. "Taken lovers before."

The smile she gives him disarms him completely, and she dances her fingers along the nape of his neck. "No," she tells him. "Only _you_ , Anakin."

It's meant to reassure him, encourage him, but all it does is make him frown. He sits up, furrowing his eyebrows and runs a hand through his short hair. _Lover._ The word sounds so _wrong_ to him. It implies that he is only useful to her when she needs… _this_ , and then he goes back to being what he was before. Anakin doesn't want to be just her lover. He wants to _love her_ , completely, body and soul. He wants to have the right to call her _his._ He wants to know that she _belongs_ to him and him alone, just as he belongs solely to her.

There's no certainty to their relationship if he is just her lover. This he knows from being on Coruscant. Many men and women often take lovers, sometimes many at a time, but they are then cast aside when something better comes along; a marriage proposal, or a younger, more attractive lover. Anakin can't bear the thought of being replaced by a husband, even though Padmé deserves such happiness, and he cannot give her such things. He can't bear the thought of her with another man, not after knowing what he knows about her. It's selfish, to want her even though he can't give her the life he knows she deserves, but Anakin has never been selfless. His master is the righteous one, forever forsaking his own needs for the good of others. Anakin takes what he wants.

Padmé sits up, regarding him in concern, and reaches for his hand. "Ani? What is it?"

"Is that… is that all I am to you?" he asks in a small voice, refusing to meet her eyes. "Your _lover?_ "

She shuffles closer to him and cups his jaw fondly. "You're many things to me, Ani," she tells him. "My friend, my Jedi protector, my… _lover_."

The word makes him flinch. He pulls away and finally looks upon her face. "I don't want to be your lover, Padmé."

Tears well in the corners of her eyes, and she gapes at him in shock. "But…" she begins, her voice thick with emotion. "I thought – I thought you… you _loved_ me?" She looks so heartbroken, eyes searching his face for some sort of assurance, so that he does the only thing he can think of to soothe her. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply.

"I _do_ ," he assures her tenderly. "I love you more than anything in this universe."

She shakes her head against him, tears falling silently down her cheeks and he catches them with his thumb. "I don't understand, Ani" she mutters, miserably.

With a sigh, Anakin strokes her hair, affectionately. He loves when she wears it down; it's so soft and luxurious. "I know what happens to lovers, Padmé," he explains. "I don't want to see you marry another man and forget about me."

"That's not going to happen, Anakin," Padmé assures him, firmly.

"How do you _know_ that?" he snaps, suddenly frustrated. She winces at his reaction, but he's too worked up to care. Why can't she understand his fear? _She's_ meant to be the pragmatic one, and yet he wonders if she's even thought about this at all? "Anything can happen in the future, Padmé. You're a _senator_. One day, you'll end up marrying another senator, and you'll have this new home and new life and possibly children. But what about _me?_ Are you just going to cast me off like I mean nothing?"

Padmé bites her lip and reaches for his hands, holding them tightly. Her eyes are filled with tears again. "No, Ani, _never._ I love you. Only _you_."

He bends and rests his head against hers, staring deep into her eyes. "Then marry me." The words tumble out of his mouth before he's even had a chance to fully consider them, and he's just as surprised to say them as she is to hear them. Her eyes widen, and she gasps, staring at him as though he has gone mad. Maybe he has.

"W-what?" she stammers in shock.

He frowns in concentration and then nods. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises it is the only logical solution to their dilemma. "Marry me, Padmé," he repeats. "Then we can be together, for the rest of our lives, just like we want. No one else can get in the way."

She shakes her head, eyes wide in disbelief. "Ani, you're a _Jedi!_ " she cries, as though he's not already aware. "We can't marry. It's forbidden!"

He shrugs his shoulders. "No one has to know," he responds simply. "We can keep it a secret."

Her eyebrows knit together and she makes this sound of irritation. "I told you before, Anakin, I don't want to live a lie!"

Anakin frowns. "We're _already_ living a lie, Padmé," he informs her. "We've been lying to the universe about our feelings since we came back from Geonosis."

"…Anakin…"

"I love you, Padmé," he reiterates, completely sincere. "I've loved you since I was nine years old, and I will love you for the rest of my life. I want the _right_ to love you. To call you _mine_. To have you completely, body and soul, just as you have me. _All of me._ " She bites her lip, but he knows she's thinking about it, weighing out the options. So, while she thinks, he continues speaking, hoping his words will sway her. "This war won't last forever. And when it ends, I want to know that I have a place by your side, that I _belong_ there. As your _husband._ "

She's clearly torn. He can read it in her expression. "But… if anyone found out… you'd be _expelled,_ " she whispers in partial terror.

"I don't care," is his simple answer.

"Don't say that, Anakin," she frowns at him. "You would care. Being a Jedi is important to you."

He cups both of her flushed cheeks, smoothing his thumbs over her lips. "You're more important."

Padmé whimpers and closes her eyes, but Anakin knows that he's won her over. She is silent for what feels like a lifetime, but he waits patiently, biting his lips to contain his anticipation. When she opens her eyes again, her expression breaks out into the loveliest of smiles, and she pulls him close by his scalp, tears trickling down her cheeks. "Oh, Anakin," she says. "I love you. I've loved you every single moment since you came back into my life, and I know I will never love another as long as I live."

His heart soars at her words. "Is that a _yes_?" he asks, whispering against her lips.

She nods her head. "Nothing would make me happier than to be able to love you forever, as your _wife._ "

Anakin has never felt joy, or happiness, until this moment. Any other time has been a lie, he realises, because _this_ is truly the happiest moment of his life, and he doubts he will ever feel this way again. A euphoric laugh bubbles out of him, and he seizes her in his arms and kisses her so fiercely, so soundly that she laughs against him. They clutch at each other's faces, their joyful tears mixing together, and it's complete _bliss._ When they pull back, giddy with love, Anakin knows that he's made the right decision. _Fuck the Order_ , he thinks to himself, wryly. Nothing – no Force in the galaxy – will keep him away from his Padmé. Not now. Not ever.

"Padmé," he coos, kissing away her tears. "My love… my _angel._ I am yours, _eternally_ _yours._ " He kisses her again, because he can't express how he's feeling in any other way. It is beyond words, beyond conscious thought. "I will love you until the end of time itself," he vows."

She laughs happily against him, stroking his hair, twirling his Padawan braid around her finger. "Then, I suggest you start now, Master Jedi."

He raises his eyebrows at her sultry tone, to meet the heady look in her eyes. "Isn't it frowned upon to make love before we are wed?" he asks, remembering the traditional customs of his home world.

Padmé winks at him. "No one has to know," she purrs, repeating his earlier sentiment.

Anakin grins. _Yes_ , he knows he will definitely never love another woman other than Padmé Amidala. Gently pushing her back, he resumes his position above her and smooths out her hair. "As milady wishes," and bends to claim her mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: I know, it's been ages! This chapter has been a long time coming. It's shorter than I expected, but never fear, because I've got a whole lot planned for the next one! Getting the realism in this was tricky, to say the least, which was why it took me so long to write, but I hope I did it justice. Enjoy! xx**_

* * *

She hisses as he pushes into her. He's panting and groaning and cursing, and his eyes are closed shut, and, if she wasn't so uncomfortable, it would have aroused her to see him like this. Instead, it does the exact opposite. It stings as she stretches to accommodate him. Of course, Anakin is the perfect gentleman and is doing everything incredibly slowly and somewhat unsurely, because it's his first time as well, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. The length and girth of him; it's larger than anything she's ever accomplished with her fingers, and at first, she feels like it's _too_ much. Like he's going to split her in half. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she exhales sharply through her nose as he drives his hips forward, piercing her virgin barrier. No matter how hard she tries, she can't escape the pained groan that rips from her chest.

At the sound, Anakin immediately stills inside her. "Padmé?" he looks down upon her, searching her face with fear in his eyes. Despite the pain, she can't help but feel a surge of deep affection for him. "I'm...I'm hurting you, aren't I?"

She gives him a comforting smile. "It's okay, Ani," she assures him softly, skimming her fingers along the muscles of his back. "I knew this would happen. It's painful for a woman her first time." She is well aware of the pains of losing her virginity, and she doesn't want him to think _he_ 's doing something wrong because of the pain.

His eyes widen fretfully and he leans up on his elbows. "No…I'll stop. We can – we can stop. I don't want to hurt you." He's rambling and frantic, and it's _so_ endearing that she takes his face in her hands and shakes her head.

"No, Anakin. I _want_ this." Because she does. She's wanted this for so long, and now it's finally happening, she's not going to let a bit of pain stop her. To reiterate her words, she pulls him back down to her mouth and kisses him softly and tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his cock inside her. She feels so… _full_ , it's like nothing she's ever felt before, and though it's strange and new, she doesn't want him to move just yet.

"Are you sure?" he whispers against her lips. His voice sounds strained, and she knows it's killing him to be inside her without moving, but he's always put her needs above his own, and this time is no exception.

With a nod, she tugs on his Padawan braid, fingering the thinly woven hair through her fingers tenderly. " _I want you, Ani,_ " she tells him softly, love shining in her eyes.

He slumps his shoulders so that his head is beside her ear, and he kisses the skin there, tenderly. "I love you, too," he mumbles against her skin, and she turns her head to kiss his cheek. "Let me know when you…when you want me to – " His consideration for her is one of the things she loves most about him, and she suddenly feels guilty. She doesn't want to disappoint _him_ , either. It's a different experience for the both of them, and the fact that it is _Anakin_ makes her realise the pain is all worth it. He is worth _everything_ she can give him. After the pleasure he already brought to her, surely she can grant him the same?

"I'm sorry," she says, miserably, and Anakin leans up again to look at her curiously. His hands brush away the stray curls that are stuck to her forehead. "I'm messing it all up," she continues. "I mean, it's – it's supposed to be… _good_ for you. You're not supposed to be worrying about _me._ "

Anakin groans deeply, capturing her lips with his own. His hands slide down her neck to cup her breasts, palming them gently. "Padmé…you – you have _no_ idea. How you – you _feel_ _…_ so, so tight and hot and… _Force_. I can't – " his voice cracks, and Padmé momentarily forgets about the pain because hearing him tell her how she _feels_ to _him_ in such an aroused and yet awkward way is _so erotic_ to her. Inside her, his cock twitches, and he lets out this long, drawn out moan when she voluntarily squeezes her walls around him. He shudders above her.

Deciding that she can't deny him what he wants...no, _needs..._ any longer, she cups his face, smoothing along his jaw with her thumbs and nods her head. "Anakin…"

He kisses her again, then slowly pulls out of her, and she whimpers as she feels him scrape along her slick walls. She's wet, but not wet enough, it seems, and the friction is slightly painful. Somehow, Anakin can sense what she wants, needs – it must be a _Jedi_ thing – for she suddenly feels his fingers rubbing softly across the top of her opening, fumbling around a bit, unsure and timid. Her eyes open to find the most endearing frown on his face as he looks down between her spread legs. At first, she wonders what he's doing, until his fingers brush over her swollen clit, and she gasps, this time in _pleasure_... _intense pleasure,_ and she arches her back, driving her breasts into his chest.

"Ani…" she breaths his name as hot slices of pleasure course through her, and for a moment, she forgets all about her pain.

His mouth is on hers once more, languidly moving against hers, and his other hand, his mechanical one, comes up to palm the swell of her breast. "I'm…I want to make you…" he breaks off and kisses her again, and whatever he is going to say disappears into her mouth as he slides his tongue slowly around hers.

He's still working his fingers over her clit with the head of his cock stretching her open. Padmé decides to reward him, and reaches down between them to grasp his cock with gentle fingers. Anakin pulls back at the contact, his eyes slightly glazed over, and she beams back up at him with moist eyes. The wetness that seeps out of her tells her that she's more than ready; there's an _ache_ deep between her legs, seeking the relief that only Anakin can provide. She needs him, _oh_ how she needs him, and, regardless of the pain, she widens her legs even further and slowly brings his cock back inside her.

It's less painful this time; her body is humming with pleasure from every pulse of her clit and she can hardly notice the sting of his cock pushing it's way inside her cavern. He makes this delicious groan again, and she watches him with eager fascination, the way his brow is furrowed and his jaw is locked, and his eyes are narrowed, the brilliant cerulean blue she so loves now darkened to almost black with desire. His lips part, and he exhales sharply, wafting hot air over her face, and he bends to bring his forehead back to hers. The expression in his eyes is so beautiful, so full of love and gratitude that Padmé tugs on his Padawan braid again gently, bringing his mouth towards hers.

Their lips and tongues mate fervently as Anakin slowly thrusts in and out of her. It's a deep thrust, steady and true, and Padmé arches her body off the bed each time, meeting his snapping hips with her own. Her hands map the broad, hardened sinew of his back whilst his clenches his hand into a fist beside her head, the natural hand still between her legs, where they are joined, rubbing delicate, feather soft circles over her clit.

"Padmé…Padmé… _Padm_ _é_ _,_ _"_ he calls her name in soft, strained tones, each syllable matching the rhythm of his hips. All she can do is _move with it_ , let the slowly coiling pleasure deep in her belly build up inside her. It's different from anything she's _ever_ felt before. He's so big inside her, touching places she didn't even know existed, but, despite the initial pain, it's more bearable now. It's almost… _good._

But this isn't about _her_. Not really. It's all about _Anakin_. She keeps her eyes trained on his face, watching each raptured expression as her name drips from his lips. She finds that he twitches and throbs inside her when she clamps down on him, and so she does just that, and is rewarded with the most erotic growl she's ever heard in her life. Just the sound of it makes her more aroused than anything he's ever done with his hands.

His entire body is trembling, and she knows he's holding back his release, for _her_ sake, because he doesn't want to hurt her. And, as sweet as that knowledge is, Padmé takes his hand from between her legs and brings it up beside her head. "Anakin… Make love to me," she tells him again, though this time she is more insistent. To reiterate her words, she splays her legs wider and traces her fingers down the ridges of his spine, before coming to rest on his firm buttocks. She grips them harshly, nails digging in, and forces him further inside her, making her cry out at the depth of the penetration.

" _Force,_ " he curses through clenched teeth, and he immediately increases the pace, both of his hands trapping her head as they curl into the crisp, white sheets of his large bed. She watches him move above her, admiring the elegant way his muscles ripple with each movement. He's _so_ beautiful, _so_ glorious to behold, she could watch him forever. If _she_ is an angel, as he has told her countless of times, then he is a _god_.

He bends to suckle at her neck, driving his hips hard against hers, pushing her deeper and deeper into the mattress, but Padme only wraps her arms around his back, pressing him as close to her as possible. Their nipples chafe deliciously against each other's as she arches up into him, crossing her legs around his hips and linking her ankles together. Sweet nothings and praise and non-words tumble out of him, muffled against her skin, as he madly churns his hips with wild abandon, forsaking his gentle, timid lovemaking for more powerful earnest thrusts. He's mad with lust, she can feel it, as he takes his pleasure from her, and she lets him, _willingly_ , because he _needs_ this... more than she does. Her time will come later, she is sure of it. For now, she simply facilitates Anakin's release.

It's closely approaching, for she feels him swell and twitch inside her, and from the way his breath suddenly hitches, she can _tell_ he's almost there, on the edge. " _Padm_ _é…_ I – I'm so... _Force_...I – _can_ _'_ _t_ …" He moans, strained and so desperate, and he pulls up, cupping her face with both of his hands. Those beautiful eyes of his pierce her soul, and even though she's already naked and he's _inside her_ , it is _this_ that makes her feel the most vulnerable, the most exposed. And, it _thrills_ her. Never has anyone ever gazed at her with such adoration before, such clear, unconditional love, and she feels her stomach flutter in response.

She takes hold of his braid and tugs his head towards her, digging her heels into the firm muscles of his buttocks. It's sweet, really, that he's asking her _permission_ , when she would give it to him anyway. Voice thick and heavy with love, she traces his bruised bottom lip with her thumb and whispers, "Come into me, Ani… Let me feel you. I want – I want to _feel_ you."

Anakin doesn't need any further encouragement. His lips seek hers aggressively, starving tongue meeting her own in raw _need_ , as he thrusts _hard_ up into her. It hurts, because he is, really, so _big_ , but Padmé hardly notices. Her senses are overloaded with one simple thought – _Anakin._ He's everywhere, above her, around her, inside her, and it's the single greatest thing she's _ever_ experienced.

She clenches sharply around him, and he's gone, twitching sporadically, crying out her name in the most beautiful, hoarse whisper she's ever heard. His thick, warm seed spills out of him, coating her womanhood, and she milks him gently, coaxing everything out of him until he collapses, spent and sweaty and exhausted, on top of her, head nestled between her breasts. The heavy sound of his breathing is all that can be heard in the still night as he wraps his arms around her body and holds her to him tenderly. With a silly, lazy smile, she strokes his sweat-dampened hair to calm him down, to soothe him, pleased that _she_ is the one who has given him such intense pleasure, that _she_ is the one he chose to give _his_ virginity to.

Slowly, Padmé lets her legs fall from around his waist, and Anakin grows soft inside her, mumbling a groan before he leans up on his elbows, slips out of her slowly, and then falls none-too-gently back onto top of her. It makes her laugh softly as his weight bears down on her, but Anakin mistakes it for a groan of protest and hurriedly scampers off of her, face flushed, muttering a stammered apology. She takes his hand and rolls over onto her side, trying not to wince. It's going to be a lot worse in the morning, she knows, but, as she gazes at Anakin and sees his infatuated expression, she can't help but smile because it's all _worth it._

His metal appendage moves up to cup her cheek, cold fingers stroking delicately over her skin, and she leans into the touch. The way he's looking at her, completely bewildered and so full of affection makes her flush, and she shuffles closer to him, ignoring her protesting inner muscles, until she is pressed snugly against his hard, lean frame. The way her body fits so perfectly to his, the way his strong arms wrap around her, makes her smile, silly and giddy, into the hot, sweaty skin of his chest. Anakin tucks her head under his chin and skims his lips over her hair, and Padmé closes her eyes, content to listen to the earnest _thud_ of his heart beside her ear.

They stay like that for what feels like an eternity, wrapped up in each other's arms and the euphoria of the moment. Neither of them say a single word, there are no words to express how they feel, nothing that can truly capture the moment. Padmé is far from satisfied, at least, in a sexual way, but there is a different kind of satisfaction that overwhelms her. A peaceful contentedness of coming _home_ , of belonging, a feeling so _right_ that she doesn't ever want it to disappear. It's a blissful existence, until she realises how fleeting it is, how soon he will be dragged away from her, and she will be left alone, and she lets out a distressed whimper, nuzzling further into Anakin's chest.

Anakin's fingers are at her chin in an instant, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "My love? What is it?"

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from quivering and reaches up to take his face in her hands. Her fingers map the hard lines of his jaw, the ridges of his cheekbones, up to smooth over the thickness of his eyebrows, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on his beautiful blue gaze. "Oh, Anakin," she whispers. "I...I wish we could just stay like this forever." It sounds so pathetic as it leaves her lips, and yet, she can't deny the truth of it. It's _all_ she wants, to be with Anakin like this for the rest of her life. With no worries, no war, no Senate, no Jedi Order. _Nothing_ to keep them and their love apart. Just _this._

His lips curve into a sweet smile, and he bends down, capturing her lips with his own, and Padmé gets lost in his kiss, in the feeling of his soft, warm lips moving languidly with hers, momentarily forgetting all of her worries about their future and just _living_ in the moment. He squeezes his arm around her middle, bringing her chest up so it's pressed firmly against his own, and his flesh hand caresses her hair.

"Let's not worry about that now," he soothes her, running his nose alongside hers. "Alright?"

Padmé nods happily, kissing his mouth again, before slinking her arms around his lean waist and curling into him. "I love you, Ani," she tells him softly.

His hum of contentment rumbles through her as he nuzzles into her hair. "And, I love you, my Angel. More than I can say."

It isn't long before they drift off to asleep and, for the first time since Geonosis, Padmé is not plagued by nightmares. She simply dreams; dreams of Anakin, of their future together, of the family she hopes they can have when the war comes to an end. But mostly, she dreams of being his wife, of waking up and falling asleep beside him every day for the rest of their lives, and that little smile stays upon her lips for the entire night.

Naboo may be her home, but _this_ , being here in Anakin's arms, is where she _belongs._ Padmé Naberrie Amidala has finally found where she belongs.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: I'm baaaaack and with smutty, adorkable cuteness to boot! These two lovebirds make me so happy and I absolutely LOVE exploring the beginnings of their intimacy. It's just so bloody cute! I hope you agree. I also have this head cannon (I guess you could say) that Anakin uses the Force to help him pleasure Padme fully, which, makes sense to me, because he can basically feel what she feels, and what she wants, and he acts accordingly - it makes him a better lover quicker than the average man, but he IS the Chosen One ;)**_

 _ **Enjoy! xx**_

* * *

Warm tendrils of sunlight spill over her face, and Padmé slowly opens her eyes, squinting up into the early morning sun. With a small yawn, she rolls over onto her back, wincing a little at the internal pain from the previous night, when she made love with Anakin for the first time. Still, she can't help but smile at the memory, regardless of the pain she feels, because it was one of the greatest nights of her life. Not _perfect_ in any sense of the word, but it was a _perfect_ moment for her, completely giving herself to the man that she loves, and him giving himself to her as well. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way, or with any other man.

Stretching her limbs with a sort of feline grace, she notices that she is alone in the bed. A pang of disappointment clutches at her heart at the realization of waking up alone, without the comfort of Anakin's body next to hers, until, when she looks towards the window, she sees him. Haloed by the morning light, he stands naked, facing the window, his back towards her, hands clasped together across the globes of his firm backside. Padmé watches him shamelessly, yet a little shyly, her eyes eagerly drinking in his long, lean form, the hard, muscular plane of his back and shoulders, his long, powerful legs spread apart as he stares out the window. He's so beautiful to her, a perfect specimen of manhood, and he's all _hers._ A part of her thrills at that fact. Anakin Skywalker is _hers,_ and hers _exclusively,_ and she _loves it._

With a secretive smile, she props herself up on her elbow, letting the silken sheets fall down her body to rest in the dip of her waist, exposing her breasts to the air. The glorious sight of Anakin naked and bare before her, and the subtle glimpse of his cock as it hangs between his thighs, has _aroused_ her to no end, and she decides she can't be without him a second longer.

" _Ani_ ," she calls to him softly, and he turns immediately at her voice. The way his cerulean eyes darken as he takes in her erotically displayed form draped across the bed makes her sex clench in anticipation, as surely as it arouses _him_. She adores the effect she has on him, mainly because it is the same effect he has on her. It's new and exciting, and she takes it in her stride. They only have a few precious more days together before he must return to the war, and Padmé is determined to make the most of them.

She beckons him with her finger, and he walks slowly towards her, a teasing half-smirk tugging at his full lips, stopping to stand beside the bed. She appreciates his strong chest, and she stretches out her hand to dance her fingertips along the hard planes of his abdomen, enjoying how smooth and firm he is to her inquisitive touch. With a sweet smile, he halts her wandering fingers with his own and brings them up to his lips, kissing them gently. His eyes never leave hers, so intense and blue and beautiful she finds it hard to breathe.

"Good morning, my love," he greets her in a soft, husky voice, before pressing a kiss to her palm.

Padmé smiles sleepily up at him, before taking a firm hold of his braid that hangs beside his ear and pulls him down fiercely, sealing her mouth to his. The sudden forcefulness takes him by surprise, for he makes a startled gasp into her mouth, but he quickly relaxes, moving his lips languidly against her own. Satisfied that he isn't going to pull away from her, Padmé releases his braid and lets her hands whisper gentle caresses down the muscles of his back, all the while deepening the kiss. Anakin's hands take hold of her face, his thumbs smoothing over her cheeks, and he delves into the deep recess of her mouth, massaging his tongue with hers wetly.

After several minutes, Padmé pulls away, her chest heaving from the exertion of the kiss, and beams up at him. "Morning, Ani." She takes in his loving expression, the way his eyes catch the light of the sun, making them twinkle like the water of the lake on a still, clear day.

"What are you thinking?" he asks her quietly, as he plays with her hair with tender affection.

Her eyes flicker closed at the touch, and she hums happily, before opening them once more. "You're so beautiful," she tells him and _never_ was there a sentiment truer than that. At times, she wonders if he is even real at all. _How_ can one man be so sweet and kind and brave and fierce all at once? She feels lucky to just be in his presence, to be the object of his affections, because she certainly doesn't deserve them.

Anakin chuckles and sits beside her, trailing his mechanical hand down her slender shoulders to rest on the curve of her hip. "It is _you_ , who is the beautiful one, Padmé," he counters honestly. "You're so beautiful it _hurts_." As he says it, he bends to rest his forehead against hers, staring deep into her eyes. It's the greatest feeling in the world, to be gazed at like that, as though _she_ is the only thing in the galaxy, the _only_ object of Anakin's entire focus.

She smirks at him.

He's _hopeless,_ completely and utterly infatuated with her to the point of it being ridiculous, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't love it. Didn't _love_ how adored and beautiful and wonderful he makes her feel. "Oh dear," she teases. "I hope it doesn't hurt _too_ much. I rather like the way you look at me, Master Jedi."

"Believe me, milady," he responds to her tease with his own trademark smirk that makes her insides quiver with _need._ "I _definitely_ like to look...and _touch."_

Laughing, soft and giddy with affection, she stretches her neck a little to claim his lips once more, devouring his passion and lust and love that he gives to her so willingly. It's like nothing else in the galaxy, kissing Anakin like this. Sure, Padmé has shared several kisses with other men in her past, but it's _never_ felt like _this._ It's _never_ left her so breathless and aroused and _needy_ like this. Like she was missing a piece of her soul and found it there, in the gentle caress of Anakin's mouth. She knows she could spend hours just doing _this_.

"I love you, Anakin," she whispers when he bends to suckle at her neck, marking her with his lips and teeth and tongue in the most sinfully delicious way. The hand that was resting on her hip has moved up to cup her breast tentatively, and the shyness and trepidation of the act makes her smile. Even after _all_ they shared last night, he is still concerned with _her_ feelings, with pleasing _her._ To encourage him, she arches her back off the bed just a little, pushing herself further into his waiting palm, and Anakin takes the hint. His fingers come up to toy with her nipple, tugging and pulling and pinching, causing bolts of arousal to shoot right down to her aching sex. She feels a wetness pool between her legs and lets out an aroused moan when Anakin takes her neglected nipple between his teeth and nips and then sucks.

"I love you more, Angel," he tells her, mouth still full of her breast, before moving to shift his weight over her prostrate body, holding himself up by his elbows so he can fully worship her with his mouth. It astounds her how much _confidence_ he has grown overnight, how attentive his is, how much he _remembers_. He touches her with less hesitation and more with lust-filled certainty. It only serves to heighten her own arousal. She knows, given time, that her beloved Ani will be a _fantastic_ lover. His devotion to her and consideration for her own needs and desires is proof enough of that already.

Her hands find their way into his short hair, gently massaging his scalp, as he feasts on her skin with desirable hunger. His attentions draw soft, breathy gasps and mewls from her lips, and Anakin seems to appreciate them, for she feels him smile against her as he peppers sweet kisses between the valley of her breasts and up, up her slender throat, up the base of her jaw, to once more drink from her mouth.

Padmé knows she could definitely get used to being woken up like _this_ , with Anakin's hard muscular body against her own, his hands on her skin, his lips caressing her own.

It certainly _is_ a good morning.

Anakin lets out a strained groan, muffled against her neck, as his erection grazes her hip, and Padmé pulls away. Glancing between them, she sees his now turgid member, erect and straining towards her. She eyes him curiously, glancing up at him briefly – he's biting his lip, and his eyes are wide, as though seeking approval – before returning her inquisitive gaze to his cock. Now that it is light, she can see him _properly_. It's certainly an impressive sight. A trickle of liquid arousal pools in her core as she remembers how he _filled her_ , how he reached so deep inside her with his thrusts where no other man has _ever_ been before. The memory makes her shudder with longing.

Her curious fingers reach out and touch him gently, running her fingers over the paper-thin skin of his shaft. At her touch, Anakin groans again, hips automatically flexing, seeking more of her. Padmé's eyes widen at his reaction, at how vulnerable he is to her soft touch, at the _power_ she holds over him. It's like nothing she's ever had before, and it _thrills_ her. Testing this new found power, she slowly drags her fingers down his length and then back up, watching the way his eyes flutter closed and his jaw slackens in sheer _pleasure,_ hismouth rounding into an 'o,'hisbreath hitching in his chest _._

It's when her fingers come up to circle around the purple, mushroomed head of his cock that Anakin stills her movements, metal fingers circling her wrist and pulling her hand gently away from her exploration. " _Padmé…_ " he pleads huskily, voice dripping with lust. "I _can't_ – when you do that…"

She smiles sadly up at him, a little disappointed she can't continue her ministrations. There's a part of her that _wants_ to watch him come undone again, simply from her _touch_ on him. His face was _so_ _beautiful_ when he lost control and gave her his pleasure, and she wants it again. Her sex tightens painfully at the mere thought.

"I just want to touch you, Ani," she whispers.

His eyes almost roll back into his head at her words, and he curses in Huttese under his breath, before taking her lips with his own, forcing them open roughly and plundering her hot, wet mouth with his eager tongue, making her melt under his aggressive kiss. "No," he mutters between kisses. " _I_ want to touch _you._ " He leans up on his elbows and caresses her face with his hands, his thumb catching on her bottom lip and making it drag.

"Last night," he continues awkwardly, his face flushing a little. "You were so… and I just – I want to make _you_ feel good this time _,_ my love. Like – like how you… how you made _me_ feel." His confession is so honest and raw and nervous that her heart swells with love for him. He's so _precious._ How did she ever get so lucky as to call him _hers?_

"Ani…" she regards him fondly with moist eyes and strokes his jaw. He is not real. Anakin Skywalker is a god-send.

He pecks her lips lightly, shushing her and swallowing her words, as his hands slide up and down her sides, making goose-pimples break out over her skin. "Let me love you, Padmé," he begs, though he doesn't even need her permission. Not really. She gave herself fully over to him the night before – she is now _his_ , completely, body and soul, and if he wants to shower her with his love, she won't stop him. Not in the slightest.

She gives a slight nod of her head, an endearing smile on her face, and Anakin eagerly resumes his intense kiss, his tongue mating with hers in such a delectable way that she simply closes her eyes and just _feels_ , just lets herself be the object of Anakin's affection for a while. And, it's nice, it's _really_ nice, until he drags his hand down across her hip, through the curls that cover her sex and circles her opening. She _gasps_ in pain as he makes to enter her, because she's still so tender and sore from last night's activities.

He sits up immediately, a horrified expression on his face " _Force,_ Padmé, my love _,_ I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" he rambles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. With a sigh, she rubs her hands along his forearms, flashing him a sweet smile.

"It's alright, Ani," she assures him. "I'm just a little sore after last night."

"Oh…" his face falls, and he hangs his head, suddenly ashamed, and Padmé instantly feels guilty at making him look so miserable. "I hurt you, didn't I? You didn't… it wasn't g-good for you, was it?" The way he asks it, so insecure and naïve, with him biting his lower lip, it tugs at her compassionate heart, the heart that he now owns completely and totally...forever.

" _Ani_ …" she leans up on her elbows, bringing herself closer to him. "I _love_ you. But you're… well…" she breaks off, her cheeks burning hotly in embarrassment, but she swallows and bravely continues. "You're quite… _big_ … you know. It'll just take me some – ah… _getting used to it_." By the time she finishes that sentence, her entire face is bright red, she can feel it, and Anakin's face matches hers. Padmé can't help but giggle at the hilarity of it all, two inexperienced lovers blushing and fumbling and giggling as they sit naked on the bed.

Eventually, Anakin forgets his embarrassment and joins in on her laughter, resuming his position atop her and nuzzling into her nose. "So, I guess you don't want me to… uh… go _inside you_ , then?" he asks, stumbling over the words adorably.

Padmé groans, a little mortified and throws her hand over her eyes, unable to look at him, a nervous laugh slipping past her lips at his blatant _honesty._ Though, truth be told, she feels more comfortable talking about _this_ with Anakin than with any other person. She _knows_ he's only asking out of consideration for her pain, which is so endearing and sweet to her, and yet, she can't help but feel how _improper_ this conversation is. If her mother could see her, right now…

"Uh… _no._ Not…not yet."

Anakin grins and nods his head. "Right. Understood, _milady._ "

Suddenly, his teeth sink into the flesh of her shoulder, and she gasps, slightly aroused and lets her hand fall from over her eyes as his tongue lashes out, quickly soothing the bite in gentle strokes. Apparently, _this_ is how Anakin overcomes embarrassment, but Padmé isn't bothered in the slightest, because his love bite has caused her to become aroused once more, and she shudders in his arms, as he suckles her neck. He continues his sweet torture, his hands filling with her breasts, as he slashes her earlobe with his tongue.

"You really _are_ an angel, my love," he whispers hoarsely in her ear, and she trembles with desire. "You taste divine." He licks the shell of her ear slowly, before he purrs, "I want to taste _all of you._ " His erotic words make her whimper pathetically. She is undeniably aroused now, impossibly so. _How_ does he do that? How can he go from being shy and innocent and naïve one moment, to being sensual and seductive and so _erotic_ the next? It astounds her but in the most delightful way.

True to his word, he takes his time to move back down her body, caressing every inch of her skin with his lips. When he reaches the top of her breasts, he cups them in his hands and pushes them up, closer to his waiting mouth, and drags the flat of his tongue across her erect nipple. A pleasured cry tears from her lips as she arches instinctively, driving her breast further into his succulent mouth, and he sucks on her greedily, like a babe at his mother's breast.

Padmé glances down and watches as he releases her now swollen rosy nipple, and her dark eyes fill with lust at the sight of the thin trail of saliva that connects from his lips, then snaps off suddenly. _Oh my._ She feels herself becoming wetter and wetter, just from the way Anakin is grinning at her – it's so sinful and wrong and _filthy_ and yet _so right,_ and she bites her lip hard. The sensations he's stirring within her are enough to bring her over the edge – almost – and she's barely keeping it together.

With the same attentiveness, Anakin takes her neglected breast into his mouth, swirling his warm tongue around her nipple as he sucks hard on her flesh. All Padmé can do is close her eyes and _pant._ If _this_ is how good Anakin felt last night, it's no wonder he finished so quickly. She doesn't know how much longer she can hold on, and he hasn't even gotten to her dripping sex. It's blissful torture, and she never wants it to end.

" _Ani_ …" Padmé whines, her voice dripping with lust, her legs widening, _begging_ him, showing him _exactly_ where she wants him; him and his _glorious mouth._ He smirks against her breastbone, before moving lower, his lips sliding wetly down her flat stomach, leaving a path of saliva in his wake. When he reaches her navel, he dips his tongue inside, causing her to flinch from the unexpected _pleasure_ that erupts within her until he's kissing along her hipbones, teeth grazing and nipping and making her squirm.

He places a series of gentle kisses along the top of her downy soft pubic hair, before he buries his nose there, right between her legs, and inhales deeply. "You smell… _amazing…_ " he informs her, his voice airy and lofty and full of reverence, as he gently rubs small circles with his nose over her damp curls. Padmé is barely conscious of anything, except the feel of his hot breath wafting over her _aching_ sex, and his hands smoothing up the insides of her thighs. "I want… I want to…" he breaks off and looks up at her, seeking her approval, his beautiful eyes almost black with lust. All she can do is nod her head, because if whatever he wants to do is as pleasurable as everything _else_ he's been doing, she's _not_ going to stop him. She just wants to _feel._

His smile is practically wolfish as he shuffles lower, gets his face right in between her legs, and then drags the flat of his tongue up across her sex. She moans, hands flying immediately into his hair, pressing herself further into him. She _should_ be embarrassed by what he's doing, because no one has _ever_ done that to her before, and even thinking about it makes her flush crimson, but it feels _too_ _fucking good_ to tell him to stop.

"M-more…" she urges him, _begs_ him, her voice sounding wanton and desperate to her ears but she's beyond caring. " _Ani_ … _just - Ugh!_ "

He obliges her request, licking another long stroke with the broad, flattened plane of his tongue, tasting her arousal. She vaguely wonders what she tastes like, whether she repulses him, or disgusts him, and the thought makes her squirm uncomfortably as Anakin continues to lick at her, dipping his tongue inside her, and then up to her swollen clit. But, she has no time to worry about such things, because he's lapping at her sensitive little bundle of nerves, with the pointed tip of his tongue, flicking rapidly back and forth and then swirling in small wet circles over her bud, over and over, and it sends bolts of intense, _white_ _hot_ pleasure coursing through her, causing her to arch her head back, thrusting her chest up off the bed, a low, drawn out moan escaping from her lips.

Her nails dig into his back, hard enough to draw blood, but Anakin merely continues his slow torture as she undulates her hips into his willing mouth. " _Ani_ … _oh, Anakin...Yes,_ _just_ _like_ _that...please, don't stop!"_ she praises him in blind pleasure. " _Oh_ , _there. Right there – keep doing…_ _ **ugh!**_ " Her ability to form coherent sentences leaves her, and so she continues to encourage him with little mewls and moans, directing him where she wants him, and he eats up the information with the same vigour with which he devours and eats _her._

His exploration is thorough – there is _no_ _part_ of her he leaves untouched by his tongue, and he's so _attentive_ , listening to what gives her the most pleasure and keeping her there, until she's about ready to explode, before he changes course.

It must be a _Force_ thing, the way he understands what she needs without her having to say a word. He makes love to her with his mouth so decadently, suckling her ravenously like she is a piece of ripe shurra fruit, and when he gives a particularly long harsh suck on her clit, pulling her bud into his mouth and flicking it with the tip of his tongue, she falls over the edge with a silent scream, back arching, eyes rolling back into her head as she comes undone before him, her hips lifting completely off the bed, thighs constricting tightly around his head.

Waves of pure blinding ecstasy roll over her, her whole body tightening and clenching from the power of her orgasm, and she feels Anakin drinking deeply of her wet essence with an aroused moan, and she basks in it all for a few minutes, feeling her body grow limp and pliant and soft.

When she comes to, she lets out a deeply satisfied moan, feeling more relaxed and content than she's _ever_ felt in her life, as though she is lying on a bed of clouds without a worry in the world. It's a high like no other, and Padmé _never_ wants to leave this paradise. She's content to stay exactly where she is, exactly like this, with Anakin, for the rest of her life.

"Mmph," Anakin's muffled groan brings her back to reality, and she looks down, to see her thighs still tightly clamped around his head.

Giggling sheepishly, she immediately releases him, and he crawls up her body. There's this ridiculously smug grin on his face, which is slick and shining with her arousal, and the sight does something to her that she can't even explain. Seeing him, covered in her essence, makes her feel strangely powerful, like she's marked him, claimed him as her own. Anakin presses a quick kiss to her lips, and she can taste herself on his mouth, and it's the strangest, most _erotic_ thing she's ever experienced – that is, until Anakin drags his tongue up across her lips, gathering her essence, before licking around his own mouth, swallowing, and smacking his lips together in replete satisfaction. "You...are...delicious," he whispers, and despite the powerful orgasm she just had, she feels her arousal spike once more. His spontaneity and intuition and blatant _honesty_ is going to be the death of her. _But_ _what_ _a_ _way_ _to_ _go,_ she smiles to herself.

Unable to express how she feels in words, she does the only thing she can think of, and pulls him down to her mouth greedily, kissing him fervently, earnestly, with as much passion as she can muster because there's no other way she can thank him for what he just did, for the insane pleasure he just brought her. Her hands trail down his spine to his buttocks, and she fills her hands with the firm muscle, slowly kneading his flesh as he subsequently grinds his aching erection into the crease of her hip.

"I could… I could _feel you_ ," he mutters breathlessly, his words half swallowed by a pleasured groan. "You were so… I could feel what _you_ were feeling – _Force_ , Padmé. I love you, I love you, _I love you._ "

She whines into his mouth and trails her fingers over his hip and down his navel to brush against the base of his cock, as it protrudes from a nest of dark blond curls. The gasp that falls from his lips is the most beautiful sound she's ever heard. "Ani… let me – let me take care of you," she offers softly, taking him firmly in her hand and guiding her palm along him. His hips jut forward immediately, thrusting himself into her small hand. The poor thing is _so_ hard and hot and _throbbing_ for her that she feels it's only fair to give him the release he so desperately _needs_. She can only imagine how it must feel to be so far aroused and yet unable to let go, and _stars_ , does he deserve it.

It doesn't take long. He's so tightly wound that just a few firm tugs of his length has him gasping and groaning and shuddering above her. " _Padmé,_ " he begs, "If you don't – I'll… _I'll –_ "

"Shhh," she encourages him sweetly, wrapping her other hand around his back and stroking his hair as he nuzzles into her neck. "It's alright, Ani. Let go."

She tugs on his shaft again before softly swirling her fingers around his quivering head, pinching him and then gently dipping her index finger into his opening and pressing down with firm pressure. Instantly, he explodes all over her belly, coating her skin in his thick warm seed, groaning as he twitches with the force of his climax and cries out her name, his hips continuing to thrust forward in uneven spurts as he rides out the remaining waves of his orgasm. It's a weird sensation, but not totally unpleasant, and Padmé feels herself fill with loving affection, as he collapses on top of her, sweaty, trembling, and spent, panting in her ear. She holds him to her chest, kissing his temple, whispering how much she loves him, as he recovers. They are _both_ in desperate need of a shower, but neither one can move just yet. They're too exhausted.

Its several minutes before Anakin regains enough strength to roll off of Padmé and snuggles into her side, curling his arms and legs around her like a child. It's so endearing that all she can do is continue to stroke his hair, a blissful smile on her face. She's so full of love, so happy and content and doesn't want this moment to _ever_ end.

All she wants is to be with Anakin like this, his body and hers becoming one until they are uncertain where he finishes and she begins. Padmé loves him with all her heart and soul, her entire spirit yearns only for him and him _alone._ Surely, such a powerful thing as love cannot be _wrong?_ Despite the challenges they will surely face, with their relationship being _forbidden_ by the Jedi Order that governs Anakin, Padmé knows that it's worth it. As her mother always told her, if it's real love, it will _always_ find a way. What she feels, in her heart, that alarmingly strong connection… that's _real love_ , and she will _never_ give up on it. _**Never**_. For as long as she lives.

Anakin's hand slides over her hip and entwines with her own and he kisses her temple sweetly. " _My_ Angel," he whispers reverently. " _My_ wife-to-be."

She grins, euphoric, and turns her head to gaze into his loving, blue-eyed gaze. " _My_ husband-to-be," she leans in and pecks his lips quickly. Despite her initial hesitation, she can't wait to marry Anakin. To properly bind her life to his. Being his _wife_ excites her more than she can put into words.

Humming in satisfaction, he burrows his head into her hair, pulling her tighter into his arms. "I love you _so_ _much_ , Padmé. I can't wait to marry you!"

She gives a giddy laugh, her entire face lighting up with an enormous grin. "Me, either, Ani."

He props himself up on his elbow, smoothing her hair from her face and gazes at her tenderly. "I want to marry you, _today_ ," he announces suddenly. "I don't want to wait a minute longer."

Tears of joy prick her eyes at his proclamation, and, if possible, her smile widens even more. "Oh, Anakin," she sniffles through her tears. "I want that, too. _I love you._ "

The grin that breaks out on his face is blinding in its beauty, so raw and uninhibited, and a bubble of bewildered laughter leaves him as he captures her lips in a searing kiss. When they pull away, Anakin glances down between their bodies at their sticky chests and chuckles. "Milady," he begins, raising his eyebrow at her. "I think we are in need of a shower before we get married."

Her eyes twinkle. "Indeed, we do, Master Jedi."

With a gallant gesture, he rises from the bed and sweeps her into his arms, carrying her into the fresher as she laughs and wraps her hands around his neck.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: I'm sorry for the long gap between updates. This whole 'juggling stories' thing is harder than it looks :/ But, be prepared for cuteness, cuteness and more cutness because it's WEDDING TIME! :D nawwwwwwwww god I love these two. Hope you enjoy! xx**_

* * *

 _"How is your rehabilitation going, Anakin?"_

Anakin smiles at the Hologram of Obi-Wan, projected by R2D2, and flexes his prosthetic fingers instinctively. "Excellent, Master," he replies happily, a wide smile on his face. "I've gained total control back in my arm now. I've been practicing every day."

Obi-Wan nods in approval. _"Good. And, Senator Amidala? How is she?"_

The question makes Anakin falter just a little. The more brazen, _arrogant_ part of him wants to brag about _just how well_ Padmé **is** doing, how wonderful _he_ made her feel, but he knows it would be foolish to do so. His Master specifically told him to break things off with her during this week of relaxation, and he has done the exact opposite - not only is he _sleeping_ with Padmé, but he intends to marry her as well, which will occur this evening, at dusk. So, he swallows his masculine pride and resorts to humble innocence.

"She is well, Master. She and her handmaidens have been very good to me here. I'm being well looked after." _Too_ well, he thinks to himself with a smirk, remembering the delicious turn the morning had taken, where Padmé let him _pleasure her_ with his mouth, and then rewarded _him_ with her own, shudder-inducing touch, letting him spill everything he had for her, all his pleasure and lust and desire. Just the _memory_ causes tendrils of arousal to flicker in his groin.

 _"Good, good,"_ Obi-Wan strokes his beard. _"Anakin, I have some news for you._ **Good** _news."_

Anakin tilts his head to the side in confusion. News? For some reason, he finds himself hoping that the Council has revoked their rule regarding attachment, and that he will be free to declare his marriage to Padmé to the entire galaxy. His upcoming nuptials is _all_ he can think about. "What news, Master?" he asks, unable to keep the anticipation out of his voice.

His Master fixes him with a serious expression and smiles at him, a true, _genuine_ smile that Anakin hasn't seen his Master show in a long, long time. _"You've been promoted, Anakin. The Council has granted you Knighthood."_

He blinks, stunned. It takes him a few moments to comprehend what he's just heard. _Knighthood?!_ It can't possibly be true. He hasn't even taken the trials, how can be _possibly_ become a Knight?

"Wait... _Knighthood?!:_ " he repeats, incredulously. The words sound so _right_ as they fall from his lips. "Are you _sure_ , Master?"

Obi-Wan nods his head, a proud smile on his face. "Yes, Anakin. Myself, Master Windu, and Master Yoda believe you are ready to become a Knight of the Jedi Order."

A bewildered laugh bubbles out of him, and he grins widely, overjoyed by the news. _Jedi Knight!_ He's _dreamed_ of this day for years, yet he never expected it to be _now._ Absently, his hands come up to finger the braid that hangs beside his ear, the symbol of his rank as a Padawan, and he thrills with the thought of it no longer being a part of him. "Master..." he exhales, trying to control himself even though he _wants_ to jump about in elation. "I can't believe it. This - this is... _amazing!"_ he exclaims, breathy with excitement. Behind his robes, his heart is thumping wildly in his chest. "I don't - I just... _wow!_ "

Chuckling, Obi-Wan grins at him through the Hologram. " _Congratulations_ , _Anakin_. _You are most deserving of this honor,_ " he praises him.

Anakin nods vigorously. "But... _how?_ The trials - I haven't - "

" _The_ _Council_ _has_ _decided_ _to_ _overlook_ _the_ _trials_ ," his Master explains. " _Your_ _efforts_ _on_ _Geonosis_ _worked_ _in_ _your_ _favour_. _You_ _showed_ _great_ _bravery_ _and_ _skill_ , _far_ _beyond_ _your_ _years_ _and_ _your_ _training_. _**That**_ _,_ _in_ _itself_ , _is_ _enough_ _for_ _the_ _Council_."

It's unbelievable. He physically can't believe his luck! First, Padmé confessed her love to him, then agreed to marry him, and _now_ he's going to be a full-fleged Jedi Knight! It's as though the Force has decided he's had enough pain and suffering in his life and decided to reward him for his hardships. "Master," he begins after a moment, a sudden thought occurring to him. "I'm only nineteen. This means, I'll be the..."

"... _youngest_ _Jedi_ _Knight_ _in_ _the_ _history_ _of_ _the_ _Order_ ," Obi-Wan finishes with a flourish. " _Yes_."

"Wow..." Anakin mutters again, still overwhelmed by the news. How did this happen? " _ **Wow**_ _._ Thank you, Master!" He puts his hands together and bows respectfully.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. " _Don_ 't _thank_ _me,_ _Anakin_. _You_ _deserve_ _this_. _You_ _**earned**_ _it_."

"I wouldn't have if it weren't for your training, Master," Anakin insists, unusually humble. He feels a great sense of gratitude towards his Master. The pair of them have been through so much together over the years, and they are like brothers, like family.

" _You_ _were_ _a_ _good_ _Padawan_ ," Obi-Wan confesses, voice thick with pride. " _Even_ _if_ _you_ _**did**_ _make_ _me_ _want_ _to_ _tear_ _my_ _hair_ _out_ ," he adds with a smirk.

Grinning smugly, Anakin counters, "Don't complain, Master. I was just keeping things...interesting."

Obi-Wan sighs, shaking his head. " _Your idea of...interesting...is not the same as mine. You_ _just_ _wait_ _until_ _you_ _have_ _a_ _Padawan_ _of_ _your_ _own_ , _Anakin_. _**Then**_ _you'll_ _see_ _how_... _interesting_ , _it_ _is_."

The suggestion makes Anakin scoff. "Me? Have a Padawan? Be serious, Master. I doubt Master Windu would let me have a Padawan. I doubt I'd be a very good teacher."

Stroking his beard, Obi-Wan smirks. " _That_ _is_ _true_. _You_ _seem_ _to_ _have_ _a_ _problem_ _following_ _direct_ _orders_." He fixes his eyes on Anakin, who laughs, then adds, fondly, " _But_ , _I'm_ _glad_ _you_ _did_."

"I wouldn't have let them kill you, Master," Anakin tells him softly. He's often wondered _what_ would have happened if Padmé hadn't insisted on flying to Geonosis to aid Obi-Wan. He would have eventually caved, he likes to think. There's no way he would have left his Master's fate up to the Council. They _never_ would have made it in time.

Obi-Wan meets his gaze with a kind expression on his face. " _I_ _know_. _But_ , _you_ _don_ ' _t have_ _to_ _call_ _me_ ' _Master_ ' _anymore_ , _Anakin_. _You're_ _not_ _my_ _Padawan_ _anymore_."

It feels weird not to call Obi-Wan his Master, after so many years of doing so. "You'll always be my Master, Obi-Wan." He says it completely serious, full of the fierce affection he feels for the man. Having been stripped away from his mother at the age of nine, his Master had been his only friend, his only family - had cared for him and loved him like a brother, and Anakin loves him, too. Not in the same way he loves Padmé, of course, but just as much, he knows. Their bond is strong. _Nothing_ will ever tear them apart, even though Anakin is now no longer his Padawan.

They share a knowing smile between the two of them, and even though he can't sense his Master through the Hologram, he knows his affection is reciprocated, simply from the look in his eyes. " _I'm proud_ _of_ _you_ , _Anakin_ ," Obi-Wan says, his voice thick with emotion. " _Very_ _proud_. _You_ _are_ _going_ _to_ _be_ _a great_ _Jedi_ _Knight_. _I_ _have_ _no_ _doubt_."

Anakin greatly appreciates his Master's praise - having sought it his entire Jedi life. Having started at the temple so many years later than many of the other Younglings, he'd always felt behind his peers, even though he excelled brilliantly. Knowing that his Master is proud of him, hearing those words, means a great deal to him. "Thank you, Mast - Obi-Wan," he corrects himself, a broad smile on his face.

" _When_ _you_ _return_ _to_ _Coruscant_ , _you_ _will_ _have_ _your_ _Knighting_ _ceremony_ _before_ _we_ _return_ _to_ _the_ _war_..." The older Jedi says before his attention is taken by something behind him and he turns his head. " _I've_ _got_ _to_ _go_ , _Anakin_. _I_ _will_ _see_ _you_ _at_ _the_ _end_ _of_ _the_ _week_. _Stay_ _safe_."

"Yes, you too, Obi-Wan."

Once the Hologram disconnects, Anakin sits back on the bed, resting one hand on his forehead. He can't _believe_ what's just happened. It's truly incredible. Jedi Knight. _Jedi Knight!_ He's been promote! No longer is he a Padawan, but a Knight in the Order. Now, he can _command_ battalions, _lead_ troops into battle. He can make _decisions_ , instead of following his Master's lead - though he never followed the rules much as it was. All his life he's had a Master, had to follow orders, had to let someone else control his actions. But now, _now_ he's in complete control. He is _free_ , and the sense of pride and accomplishment that seizes him has him grinning ecstatically.

Leaping from the bed with renewed confidence, he tears downstairs at a rapid pace, his robes flying out behind him, seeking out Padmé. He _has_ to tell her the news! She'll be so _proud_ of him, he _knows_ she will. She _has_ to be. Anakin hasn't felt _this_ overjoyed since Master Qui-Gon told him he was going to leave Tatooine and become a Jedi. In the ten years since, he's never known happiness like _this_. And, Padmé _has_ to be the first person to know.

He finds her in the sitting room, talking with Sabé as they sit on the sofa. Next to them, the fireplace is simmering away quietly, a few glowing embers still hanging onto their last dying breath. Padmé lifts her head as he enters the room, and the smile she gives him makes his insides quiver in delight. It's as though his presence has just made her _entire_ morning, and Anakin knows he will _never_ get tired of seeing that smile. He will endeavour to make her smile that like for the rest of his life, he swears it.

"Padmé!" he calls her name, breathlessly, unable to stop grinning at her. She tips her head to the side curiously, her gorgeous brown eyes sweeping over his face almost like a physical caress as she studies him.

"Ani? What is it?"

Sabé excuses herself with a polite curtsy, which Anakin is grateful for. He wants to be alone with his beloved bride when he tells her the news.

He strides towards her, closing the gap between them and beams down at her, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. "I have wonderful news, my love," he whispers in barely contained excitement, his voice and hands quivering with it.

She giggles at his obvious glee, blinking up at him in expectation and places her hands gently on his chest. "Tell me."

Unable to keep it in anymore, he grins and the words rush out of him all at once. "I'm being Knighted!" he tells her. "I'm not a Padawan anymore. I'm a Jedi _Knight!_ "

Her expression morphs from mild intrigue to fierce pride as she smiles widely up at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and hugging him passionately. "Anakin, that's _wonderful_ ," she praises softly in his ear, and he laughs, before clasping her tightly around her waist and lifting her off the ground, spinning her around in his euphoria. Her silvery laugh echoes his own as they embrace fiercely, and Anakin can't recall a moment quite like this, where he's ever felt so happy. _This_ is what he wants for the rest of his life, to be able to share his life and achievements with Padmé.

When he finally lowers her back to the ground, she caresses his cheeks with her smooth hands. "I'm _so_ proud of you, Ani," she tells him, and it inflates his ego to beyond reason. The knowledge that she is _proud_ of him is the only recognition he desires. Her approval, her _love_ , is all he will _ever_ require for as long as he lives.

"Obi-Wan told me just now," he explains, keeping his hands full with the curves of her hips, his fingers rubbing gently against her. "After what happened on Geonosis, Master Yoda and Master Windu are disregarding the trials. When I return to Coruscant, I'll have my Knighting ceremony!"

He expects her to congratulate him, perhaps even kiss him, but she does neither of these things. Instead, her face falls, a melancholy smile pulling at the corners of her lips, and she peers up at him with sad eyes. "That's – that's wonderful, Ani," she mutters quietly.

Anakin frowns, troubled by her sudden change in demeanour, and tilts her head up a little with a lone finger under her chin, so he can fully look deep into her eyes, searching her face for an answer. "Padmé? My love, what's wrong?" he asks, concerned. "Are you – are you not _happy_ for me?"

She shakes her head, a solitary tear leaking from her eye and gives him a watery smile. "No, I _am_ , Ani. Truly. I'm _so_ very happy for you. So very _proud_ …" her voice trails off, and she sighs miserably, and Anakin _hates_ seeing her like this. "I just – I don't want you to go back to Coruscant." Her eyes dart to the ground as she voices in a small, timid voice, what's _truly_ bothering her, as though she's ashamed to admit it, to take away from his happiness. And, it's so endearing to Anakin that he can't help but smile warmly down at her and gently smooths his thumb across her cheek, nudging the little freckle that sits perfectly in the center of her cheekbone.

" _Padm_ _é_ …" he whispers her name and bends to kiss her sweetly, his heart swelling with deep affection for her. He feels the exact same way.

She shakes her head sadly and gives him a weak smile. "I'm just being silly," she tells him. "Only, these last few days with you have been…," she breaks off, trying to find an adequate word to describe how she feels, but he simply nods in understanding.

It's _indescribable,_ the way he feels when he's with her. There are not enough words in _any_ spoken language in the galaxy that can accurately pinpoint the emotions that she stirs within him. "I don't want you to leave."

It's almost amusing to him that out of the pair of them, _she_ is the one who is begging _him_ to stay. Anakin is loath to leave her, but he knows he has no choice. He's resided himself to the fact that, by the end of the week, he must return to Coruscant for his Knighting ceremony and then go off to fight in the war. Obi-Wan gave him a week, and he knows that if he doesn't return within that week, the Jedi will probably send out a search party looking for him. It's a grim fate, but Anakin doesn't want to think about the future. He just wants to be here, in this moment, with _Padm_ _é_.

"I don't want to leave you, either," he tells her honestly. "It'll be the _hardest_ thing I've ever done. But, I _have_ to, Padmé. It's my… _duty._ " When he says the words, he sees a flash of recognition across her face. The word _duty_ resonates with her, he knows. She's duty-bound, just like he is; compared to the war breaking out around them, their love is practically miniscule. There is a bigger picture, they both know it, and regardless of how much it pains them to have to be apart, they both _know_ what they must do.

So, she simply nods her head slowly, blinking up at him with large, compassionate eyes. "I know," she whispers, her voice soft and full of despair.

Anakin bends to rest his forehead against hers, staring into her beautiful brown eyes. He could get lost in those eyes endlessly, they draw him in like _nothing_ else. "Don't think about it now, my love," he tells her. "We still have a few days together. We're lucky to even have _this_." If it wasn't for Obi-Wan's generosity regarding Anakin's recovery, he never would have come here. In a way, he's almost thankful to his – now former – Master.

A tear slides down her cheek, and Anakin catches it with his thumb, brushing it away softly, before kissing her lips once more. "Don't cry, Angel, _please_ _…"_ he implores her. There's _nothing_ he hates more than seeing his beloved upset. It physically pains him. "You can't be sad today," he insists with a warm smile. "It's our wedding day!"

Padmé gives a tearful chuckle and beams up at him, sliding her hands up behind his neck to caress the ends of his hair. "Yes, it is," she whispers happily, and Anakin is glad to see the smile on her face. While she is always beautiful in his eyes, when she smiles, she is positively _radiant._ " _And,_ you can't be in here. It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding." Her lips curve into a knowing smile.

Rolling his eyes, Anakin laughs. "I didn't realise you were this superstitious, _milady,_ " he teases her with a wink.

She grins. "It's a Naboo custom."

"Very well, my love," Anakin concedes. "I will respect your customs." He bends and kisses her one last time, unable to resist the lure of her perfect, lush, lips, and slides his mouth along her smooth cheek to rest beside her ear. "I can't _wait_ to marry you and make you _mine,_ " he breathes into her ear, and delights in the little shudder his words induce in her. For a moment, he believes he has crumbled her resolve, until she's pushing him towards the door with a laugh, and he obliges with little resistance.

Just as he turns to leave, he looks back over his shoulder to see her smiling widely at him. "I can't wait to marry you either, my beloved Jedi Knight," she murmurs and her words and the acknowledgement of his new title make him swell with utmost pride.

He doesn't think he'll be able to stop smiling for the rest of the day.

* * *

Padmé does her best to avoid Anakin all day, even though she longs for him desperately. Somehow, she knows it will be for the better, and will only make their sweet reunion tonight all the sweeter if they have spent the entire day apart. A shudder of _sensual_ anticipation ignites her soul as she casts her mind forward, to the wedding and beyond, where she will fall into Anakin's arms as his _wife,_ and she is more excited for _that_ moment than she could ever have thought possible.

To distract herself, she keeps busy with organising the necessary things for the wedding. Sabé has organised her gown and flower bouquet, as well as the Holy man who will wed her and Anakin, and has gone into the city to collect them. Padme only trusts her closest handmaidens with these personal tasks. They are loyal to her and have proved their loyalty more than once, risking their own lives for hers. They will keep quiet about her marriage to Anakin, she knows. But, no one else can know. Word travels like wildfire and if anyone saw them…if word got back to the Queen, she would likely lose her position as Naboo's Senator, not to mention that Anakin would be expelled from the Order. She can't do that to him, not so soon after he's been promoted. He's told her many times he'd give it all up for her, but after seeing him today, how _happy_ and _proud_ he was of his new Knighthood, Padmé knows he would regret it, even if he never admitted it.

Padmé hates secrecy. She hates lies and deception and feels almost hypocritical that she is about to be secretly married to a Jedi, going behind the backs of the Order, the Senate, the Queen, and her own _family._ And yet, despite how that makes her feel, she can't find it within herself to back out. She _loves_ Anakin. The thought of being his _wife_ thrills her. As he'd explained, the war isn't going to last forever, and when it's _finally_ over, they'll be able to be a proper family. She longs for that day more than she cares to admit.

Of course, she _wants_ peace for the Republic, but she can't deny that her _main_ motivation is so she and Anakin can be together, _properly._ Perhaps, after the war is over, the Order won't be so strict about attachments. Maybe Anakin will be able to persuade them? And, in any case, she's _more_ than willing to leave the Senate once there's peace. They'll find a way to make it work – she _knows_ it.

"You're awfully cheerful today, milady," Dormé notes as she enters her bedchamber to get her bath ready.

Padmé turns and smiles at her handmaiden. Compared to yesterday, when she spent the entire day curled up in bed with the curtains drawn, wallowing in sorrow, she feels like a whole new woman – renewed and rejuvenated and completely... _elated_. "Thank you, Dormé. I'm feeling _much_ better."

Her handmaiden flashes her a sly grin, which makes Padmé narrow her eyes suspiciously. "Must have been a good sleep, milady. Or, should I say, _lack of_ sleep."

At the blunt accusation, Padmé feels her cheeks flush, and she opens her mouth to retort when Dormé continues, "Don't try to deny it. You were _conveniently_ absent from your bedchamber this morning, and I could _distinctly_ hear you moaning and sighing in the room next door." Her face grows even hotter, and she averts her gaze in embarrassment, shifting in her seat at memories of the morning come flooding back. Anakin… _worshipping her_ , with his hands and… and his _mouth_ , bring her pleasure that she'd never known existed. It's enough to make her clench her thighs and bite her lip as she recalls the _wonderful_ things he'd done to her...to think of what he _would_ do to her tonight.

When she refuses to comment, Dormé only smirks. "So, you _finally_ slept with your Jedi, then." She nodded her head feebly, seeing no reason to lie. Her handmaiden already knew the truth. "And…? How was it?"

It was then that Padmé met her handmaiden's eyes seriously. " _Momentous_ ," she uttered in an awed whisper. There really was no other way to describe it. Making love with Anakin had been painful and uncomfortable, yes, but it had also been the _greatest_ thing she'd ever experienced. He'd been so sweet and gentle with her, despite how nervous and naïve he was himself. She'd _loved_ the feeling of him inside her, filling her like nothing else could; _loved_ hearing her name upon his lips, the low, breathy gasps she draw from him as he took his own pleasure from her. She'd _loved_ the way his eyes locked on hers as he reached his climax, the way his hard body felt as it slid above and within her own. Despite the fact that she had been denied her own orgasm, she couldn't complain, because her _true_ joy was simply being with _Anakin,_ and giving _him_ such intense pleasure through her body _._

 _Besides, he_ _'_ _d definitely made up for it this morning_ , she thought with a secretive smile.

Dormé grinned impishly at her, waggling her eyebrows. "That good, huh? Tell me, milady, if I may be so bold. Is Master Skywalker as… _impressive..._ as he looks? He's rather tall, so one would expect him to be quite... _generously_ _endowed_ , but you never know…"

Padmé's eyes widen in shock, and she stares at her handmaiden, unable to believe the things coming out of her mouth. "What _exactly_ are you asking me?" she asks, feigning innocence.

Her handmaiden's eyes twinkle with mischief. "Is he… _well proportioned_?" she asks with a wink.

Swallowing and shaking her head, she fixes her handmaiden with a stern frown. "Dormé! You are _far_ too bold. Master Skywalker is a Jedi. You ought to show him more respect."

Humbling considerably, Dormé lowers her head and nods. "Yes, milady. I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn."

She sets about getting the bath ready, and Padmé, smirking, can't resist divulging just a _little_ information. Her handmaidens _are_ her best friends, after all, and it's only natural to talk about such things amongst themselves. "And, by the way... _yes,_ " she answers her questions with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing hotly. "He is _very_ well proportioned."

Dormé grins, winks again, and then sets about adding the sweet smelling bath salts to the steaming water. Once it is ready, Padmé settles into the bath and lets Dormé wash her hair. It's very relaxing, letting her handmaidens wash her hair, and Padmé hums contentedly and closes her eyes as Dormé's fingers massage her scalp and comb through her tangled curls.

"I didn't just sleep with him, you know," she informs her handmaiden after a time. It's important that she expresses this, important that she emphasises how much she loves Anakin, and isn't just using him. If word ever got out about what happened here, Padmé knows that's what they all would insinuate, the press – that Anakin is her secret _lover_ , and they both know that's not what they mean to each other. Their love transcends physical infatuation; it is deep and steadfast and true, a spiritual and emotional entwining of two souls who, without the other, would not exist.

"We're getting married this afternoon."

"I know, Sabé told me," Dormé concedes with a smile. "You really love him, don't you?"

A silly grin pulls at her mouth, and she nods her head. "Yes. I do. Very, _very_ much." Never would she have thought that little Ani, the nine-year-old slave from Tatooine would own such a strong, solid space in her heart, and yet, here they are. Her fourteen-year-old self probably would have laughed hysterically if she'd been told she was going to marry him one day. Now, it brings the most affectionate smile to her lips.

"I'm so pleased for you, Padmé. Sabé as well. We only want your happiness, milady."

"Thank you, Dormé," Padmé turns her head to look up at her handmaiden. Both Dormé and Sabé have been by her side for years – she considers them her closest and most trusted friends. Their approval means a great deal to her. " **No** **one** must _ever_ know, you understand?" she says, suddenly turning serious. "Not even my family can know. It _has_ to remain a secret."

Dormé nods her head solemnly. "Of course, milady. We will not betray you. You have my word."

Reaching out, Padmé squeezes her handmaiden's hand affectionately. "I trust you."

They grow silent as Dormé rinses out the shampoo and applies a layer of conditioner to keep her hair smooth and luscious. When her bath grows cold, she steps out and dries herself, just as Sabé returns with her wedding gown. Padme is lead back into her bedchamber and when her eyes land on the beautiful garment laid out upon her bed, her eyes fill with tears.

It's _beautiful._ The ivory silk bodice and skirt is embroidered with elegant swirls of pale gold thread and dusted with tiny seed pearls, making it shimmer in the light. A thin cloak made entirely of white lace accompanies the gown, which spills out into long, flowing sleeves and train. Her veil is a delicate lace headpiece of the same ivory as the gown itself. Padme is speechless for a moment as she gazes at it. It's more beautiful than anything she could have imagined.

" _Sab_ _é_ …" she whispers in awe, taking a step towards the bed. It's almost _too_ pretty to touch, so her hand just hangs awkwardly in the air, inches away from the fabric.

"Do you like it, milady?" Sabé asks timidly, voice tinged with worry. "It was difficult to find something at such short notice and in your size."

Padmé tears her eyes away from the dress to look up at her handmaiden, her eyes rapt. "It's _stunning_ ," she gushes. She can just imagine the look on Anakin's face when he sees her in this, this afternoon, and it sends thrills down her spine. "Thank you."

"You deserve nothing less than perfection for your wedding day, milady," Sabé says fondly, with a bright smile. "It's the biggest day of your life, and we want to make sure it's _perfect_."

A rush of affection for her handmaidens overwhelms her, and Padmé beams widely at them, rushing towards them and pulling them both into her arms for a fierce hug. Tears stream down her cheeks as they giggle and sob into each other's arms. Padmé has _never_ felt more grateful for her handmaidens; they are her closest companions and truest friends, and she is ever appreciative of all they do for her.

When they pull away, Padmé sniffles and wipes her eyes, unable to stop smiling. Dormé laughs and shakes her head. "That's enough crying, milady. Save the tears for the actual wedding. We can't make you look like a bride when you're blubbering." Padmé grins at her; whilst Sabé is mellow and sweet, Dormé is snarky and sarcastic. She adores both of them.

"Yes, _milady,_ " Padmé teases and takes a seat in front of her vanity, giving over control to her handmaidens.

In a few hours, she will marry Anakin. She can hardly wait.

* * *

 _She_ _'_ _s breathtaking._ It's the first thing that comes to mind when Anakin sees her walking towards him. All he can do is stare at her. Truly, there is _no_ creature in the entire galaxy that comes close to the beauty of Padmé Amidala. _His_ _Padme_. She's like some sort of divine goddess as she approaches him. Her ivory gown glitters like starlight in the late afternoon sun. The smile on her face is _radiant_ , and she's positively _glowing_ with joy – Anakin can feel it bursting out of her through the Force, like a bright ray of sunshine. As she comes closer, he notices her eyes are glistening with moisture, evidence of her happiness. Because of _him._ It only makes him swell with intense masculine pride.

When she reaches him, a delicate pink blush decorates her cheeks, and Anakin sweeps his gaze over her form, drinking in her gorgeous hair that falls in two loose curls beside her face, the rest hidden underneath her lace veil, the slow rise and fall of her chest beneath her gown. All he wants is to take her in his arms and kiss her, meld his lips to hers for all eternity. He's barely aware of the Holy Man who stands before them, ready to wed them, or Artoo, Threepio, Sabé and Dormé, who stand off to the side, as witnesses. His attention is entirely focused on _her._

His beautiful bride.

The thought thrills him like nothing else. After today, he will be a _married_ man, a _husband_. After today, Padmé will be his _wife._ It's almost too good to be true. Even now, when he's standing here in his black robes, and she is standing next to him in her wedding gown, Anakin can't quite wrap his head around the fact that they are to be _married._ It's a dream, surely. For how can she possibly want to marry _him_ – she is a beautiful, brilliant, intelligent woman, and he is young, reckless and impulsive, unworthy of her affection?

Yet here she is, shining in the sunlight like an Angel, so beautiful, so pure, so _willing_ to bind her life to his, that Anakin accepts that it _has_ to be real. In response, he beams down at her, hoping to replicate the wonderful emotions currently stirring within him, because she deserves nothing less. Padmé deserves _everything_ he can give her, all the love and devotion he is capable of possessing, and he vows to bestow such affection on her every minute of every day for as long as he lives.

The Holy Man begins reciting from an ancient text; a typical Naboo custom for weddings, but Anakin isn't paying attention. Instead, he closes the distance between them until he is merely a hairs breath away and inhales her intoxicating perfume deeply through his nose. "Hi," he whispers softly.

She beams up at him, a soft giggle slipping past her lips. "Hi," she returns his greeting, blinking shyly up at him through her eyelashes.

"You're _so_ beautiful right now," he tells her honestly, every word dripping with the intense adoration he feels for her. His words cause her to flush even deeper and that urge to kiss her only grows stronger.

"So are you," she whispers back, equally genuine.

Artoo beeps softly, interrupting their moment, and Anakin realises that the Holy Man has asked for him to recite his vows. He swallows. _Vows?!_ He'd written his vows earlier that day, on a piece of paper, but in his excitement and eagerness, he'd left it in his room. _Force,_ he curses himself internally. How could he have been so stupid to forget his _vows?_ He feels panic rising in his chest and flicks his gaze at Padmé, who peers up at him curiously. He doesn't want to disappoint her, so, instead, he gives her a falsely confident smile and swallows his fear.

 _You_ _'_ _re a Jedi Knight now, Skywalker. **Act** like it._

It shouldn't be that hard to say his vows. They are meant to speak from the heart, after all, and Anakin holds a lot of feelings in his heart for Padmé. All he has to do it express them. _Easy_.

"My dearest Padmé," he begins slowly, smiling down at her. "From the moment I first saw you, all those years ago, when I was a slave on Tatooine, I have loved you. You have been in my heart every day since the moment you first smiled at me, and I know I will love you with all that I am, body and soul, until the day I die. You are my only love," his voice cracks with emotion as he says it, and it's mirrored in her moist eyes. "You alone are the _owner_ of my heart. I will never love another. I will never _see_ another. It's _you_ , my love. It always has been thus, and it always will be so. I _vow_ to protect you, to support you, to love, honor, and cherish you, until the end of my days and for the end of time."

When he finishes his vows, he feels a tear slide down his cheek, and Padmé is actually sobbing, her shoulders shaking with the intensity of it, and at first Anakin wonders what he's said to upset her. Until, she reaches for his hand and squeezes it gently, giving him a beautiful, watery smile. " _Ani,_ " she whispers thickly. "I love you. I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart, but you came along and swept me off my feet. You fill my life with so much joy, with so much love and _life_ , you are my own ray of sunshine, my protector, my lover, my best friend. You know me better than I know myself. When I'm with you I am _home,_ _"_ she trembles and gives a small sob, and Anakin squeezes her hand tightly, encouraging her to continue. "I will spend the rest of my life proving my love to you, my beloved Ani, for I cannot express what you mean to me in words. I will love you for eternity and beyond. I will love you across the stars."

Her words resonate deeply within Anakin. Their eyes lock, never leaving each other's fierce embrace, and Anakin is flying. He's left his body and is watching the entire scene unfold before him with new eyes. It's a strange experience; he's never felt so solely _attached_ to one person before, as though there is an invisible cord that connects them, her heart and his, and it cannot be broken, not even by a lightsaber.

The Holy Man recites more words from the Naboo text, but Anakin tunes out. Padmé takes his mechanical hand in hers then, and he twines his cold, metal fingers with her smooth, warm ones, relishing in her soft touch. His brain goes numb; he can barely utter the words, " _I do."_ All he knows is that his face is suddenly moving closer to hers, and their foreheads are touching, and her perfect lips part and echo his vow. And, then their lips touch. It's soft and sweet and gentle, strangely timid, considering what they have done the night before, and yet, it's the _greatest_ kiss Anakin has ever received. It's a kiss of promise, of eternal love, the entwinement of two individuals in the deep bonds of matrimony.

They keep their hands clasped together and talk with their mouths, express their love for each other in the most sacred of physical gestures. And when they part, they smile at each other, and Anakin's heart swells with overwhelming love for his _wife_.

And there, just for a moment, graced by the golden, orange and pink glow of the Naboo sunset, Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala cease to exist, and they are simply two individuals united as _one_. Man and woman.

Husband and wife.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: So, I've been a bit carried away with other stories as of late, and I kinda forgot that I needed to update this (oooops) so I'm sorry that I made you wait so long for this greatly anticipated chapter. I'm only human :) I hope you enjoy this! This story is winding down soon, only a few more chapters to go before it's finished, but I want to thank you all for the support so far. It's been amazing.**_

 ** _Happy reading :)_**

* * *

Anakin Skywalker has always had a flare for dramatics, and so, when the wedding ceremony finishes, he takes the opportunity to sweep his bride, his new _wife_ , his _angel_ , into his arms, cradling her as she wraps her hands around his neck, and carries her inside from the terrace overlooking Lake Varykino where their wedding ceremony took place and up the grand staircase to the master suite and her bedchamber. Padmé giggles softly in his ear, her warm breath teasing his skin, and he can't resist bending his neck to kiss her inviting lips whilst they walk. The fact that he can _do_ this, without feeling guilty or like it's wrong, is wonderful in itself, and something he feels he'll _never_ grow tired of. Anakin knows, he is certain, that he is _the_ happiest man in the entire _galaxy_ in this moment.

Once they reach her bedchamber and he shuts and locks the door behind him with the Force, a soft smile graces his face. The bed is beautifully arranged with petals of fragrant Nubian lilies scattered across the indigo bedspread, and sweetly scented lit candles are placed around the room, the flickering flames dancing in the early evening breeze, setting a romantic ambiance for the two newlyweds on their wedding night. The work of her handmaidens, Anakin is positive, and he appreciates the small, kind gesture. His wife( _oh_ , how _wondrous_ it feels to call her that) seems to agree, for she releases a small, surprised gasp, and her eyes brim with tears at the sight.

"Oh my," she whispers just as Anakin sets her down on her feet, bringing her hand up to her mouth. "Ani, it's _so_ beautiful."

He chuckles softly and steps up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling into her neck. "Not as beautiful as you, my love," he breathes softly against her skin, splaying his hands around her tiny waist, and she leans back against his chest, turning her head to press a gentle kiss just below his ear. It sends chills quivering down his spine.

"Master Jedi, are you trying to seduce me?" she asks, her voice low and sultry, one eyebrow quirked in amusement, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

Another low laugh rumbles deep in his chest, and he grins at her, impishly. "I think I've already done that, _milady_."

She hums and turns in his arms, snaking her hands up around his neck, one finger twirling his Padawan braid idly. "You have, have you?" Her beautiful brown eyes flash with mirth.

Anakin winks at her, a smirk curling his lips. "Absolutely. How else would I have convinced a brilliant Galactic Senator such as yourself to marry me?"

Padmé bites her lip and pretends to be deep in thought for just a moment, before mock-gasping and bringing a hand to her chest. "Oh, you're right! I've been deceived! I should call for my guards to have you arrested for tricking me!"

With a wolfish grin, Anakin bends his head slightly to rest his forehead against hers. "Or, you could always arrest me yourself, milady," he murmurs softly, voice rough and hoarse with longing. "If it pleases you."

"It would, indeed," she replies, before yanking hard on his braid, forcing his lips to crash onto hers.

Their mouths fuse together passionately, lips and tongues conveying the desire that sizzles between them, and Anakin slides his flesh hand up her spine and under her veil to tangle in her chestnut curls, before cupping the nape of her neck, causing her head to tilt back and allow him more access to her delicious mouth. She releases this soft little moan as he deepens the kiss, and it sends bolts of desire shooting down his body, right to his groin. He can't believe that this is real…it still feels like a dream somehow. But, it's not. Padmé is his _wife_ , in every sense of the word, and it fills him with such immense pride, it surges through his entire body.

"I love you, wife of mine," he tells her, eyes misted over with complete infatuation, as he thumbs at her regal cheekbones, tracing his metal thumb delicately over the tiny freckle in the centre of her cheek.

She smiles radiantly up at him, and Anakin can feel her love and devotion to him seeping out through her Force signature – she's practically _shining_ with it. "I love _you_ , my dear husband," she giggles happily, a delicate blush colouring her cheeks, and Anakin feels a great sense of deep masculine satisfaction to know that _he_ is the cause of such a beautiful reaction.

 _Husband._ Yes, he is _her_ _husband._ And, she is _his_ _wife_. To hear her address him as such, without any hesitation, sends tendrils of intense pleasure coursing wildly through his blood. His response is to burrow his nose into the side of her neck and wrap his arms tightly around her as he tries to supress his overjoyed laughter, and instead, focuses on the delicate floral scent of her perfume, a smell he's come to familiarize himself with over their time together. Her own silvery laughter joins his as she clutches at his broad muscled shoulders, and for a moment, the newlyweds simply hold each other, basking in their incredible love.

"Ani…" Padmé strokes the back of his head, encouraging him to lift and meet her gaze, which he does immediately, as he would do anything for her. For his _wife._

"Yes, my love," he answers her call, gently brushing his nose along the dainty slope of hers.

She is silent for a moment, her bottom lip catches between her teeth, as her fingers fiddle with the collar of his black Jedi robes. Anakin reaches out with the Force in an attempt to discover what is troubling her, but he stops when she bends her head back to look up at him, a shy – yet determined – glint in her eyes. Fluttering her eyelids, she curves her lips into a smirk. "I think we are wearing _far_ too much clothing for our wedding night, don't you?"

At her words, and the suggestive undertones laced within them, Anakin feels himself instantly harden in his pants, and he swallows thickly as a surge of arousal shoots straight to his groin. She _wants_ to make love with him, again. Of course, Anakin wants this as well. Now that he's had her, felt what it's like to be _inside_ her, at one with her, surrounded and embraced by her silky wet warmth, he's thought of little else all day. _Force!_ He wants to make love to her every minute of every day for the rest of his life, if only it's possible, but the knowledge that _she_ wants that, too...well, it's almost _too_ much for him.

"You're right," he grins excitedly, and then his trembling, nervous hands are on her body, unsure of what he's doing, but determined to remove her wedding gown from her tiny frame. As beautiful as it is, it's concealing her glorious body from his eager gaze, and he wants to see her, _truly_ see her, to _worship_ her in a way no other man ever has, and to lavish such worship on her flawless, ivory skin. He wants to bring her to the highest heights of pleasure, and he is _determined_ to do so.

Just when he makes some headway with her veil, delicately unfastening it from her hair and tossing it to the floor, freeing her luxurious, chestnut curls, her tiny hands close around his wrists and still his movements. "No," she orders, softly, yet firmly, with all the authority of a Galactic Senator, and so he does what he's told.

"What is it, Angel?" he asks, a frown of concern on his face as he rubs his thumbs against her knuckles. Has she changed her mind? Does she regret this, marrying him? He can't _bear_ the thought of her rejecting him now, he's in so deep, loves her _so_ much. It would break him. "Did I do something wrong?"

Instantly, she shakes her head, a blindingly beautiful smile on her face, and she giggles and stretches up on her toes to peck his lips fleetingly. "Of course not, Ani," she assures him, sweetly. "I just…I want to – " her voice breaks off with obvious embarrassment, as she begins to untie the sash around his waist, before peeling his robes off of his shoulders. It's then that Anakin understands. _She_ wants to undress _him_ , and _Force_ if he's going to stop her.

He smiles down at her as she drops his robes to the floor, before pushing his tunic up his chest, yanking on it, and he bends and lifts his arms so she can take it off properly. It joins the rest of his clothes on the floor in a manner of seconds. Once his chest is bare before her, he is subjected to an onslaught of feather-light touches from her fingertips as she explores him, tracing over every ridge of his abdomen, the sensitive peaks of his nipples, the firm chiselled muscles of his pectorals and along the sharp angle of his collarbone. He closes his eyes at her touch and releases a shaky exhale. There is _nothing_ that can compare to Padmé's gentle touch on his skin. It sets his nerves alight. The sensations are only enhanced when she presses her lips just over his pounding heart, causing his stomach to flip and flutter nervously.

She skims her hands up his chest to caress the nape of his neck, and her lips follow the path wetly, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Once they're at his ear, she flicks her tongue out, licking at his earlobe gently in a way that causes his cock to twitch in his pants. They're not even naked, and he's barely touched her, and yet he's already semi-hard. It's incredible, the sheer power she holds over him. "Take off your boots, my love," she instructs in a velvety smooth purr, and Anakin would be a fool not to obey her request. He instantly bends down and hurriedly kicks his boots off – they land somewhere on the other edge of the room, not that he really pays attention – and then Padmé smiles up at him and, once more, dances her fingertips down his chest, following the trail of fine blonde hair extending below his navel to land on the waistband of his pants.

Anakin's breath hitches in his throat as she deftly undoes the laces of his pants before bending and shuffling them down his lean hips. She giggles a little as she notices how hard he is already, and he flushes in embarrassment, his cheeks growing hot. It must be so ridiculous to her, having married a man so young, so inexperienced, and he feels slightly ashamed by how easily his body responds to her. Yet, she makes no comment and simply continues to pull his pants down his long legs and tossing them aside to join the rest of his clothes. As she stands back up, she subtly grazes her nails over the straining length of him, and he groans in spite of himself. He opens his eyes slowly and blinks down at her, catching the way she's grinning cheekily up at him, and he lets his fingers card through her undone hair.

"Padmé…" he says, a smirk upon his lips, his mechanical hand resting on her waist. " _This_ is a little unfair, Angel. Why am _**I**_ the only one undressed?"

She rests her hands on his shoulders and smiles broadly up at him. "Are you asking to take my clothes off, Master Jedi?" she batts her eyelids at him coyly.

"That's _exactly_ what I'm asking, milady."

Tittering, she steps out of his arms and turns around, lifting the back of her hair and pulling it over to one side. She turns her head just a little to look at him over her shoulder and whispers, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Stepping eagerly up behind her, Anakin instantly begins working open the small, delicate buttons of her gown with slow precision, taking his time, gently grazing the exposed expanse of skin with his fingertips, sending shivers down her spine. Each time he feeds a button through the loop, more of her elegant back is revealed to him, and the anticipation only heightens his raw _need_ for her. Once he reaches the last button at the base of her spine, he pauses just for a moment and inhales deeply, before rubbing both hands delicately up her spine and across her shoulders and taking the top of her dress and gently pushing it forward off her shoulders. Padmé takes her arms out of the sleeves and lets the fabric pool at her hips, and Anakin can't resist leaning forward and brushing his lips across the exposed nape of her neck.

Her skin reacts instantly under his soft touch as another shudder wracks through her, and he smiles against her skin, before kissing a line down the ridges of her spine until he's kneeling behind her. Running his hands gently up and down her sides, he rests his head against the small of her back and exhales a shaky, nervous breath. Of course, he's already had the luxury of seeing her bare before him, but there's something so different, so _intimate,_ about doing it himself, about undressing her like this. He wants to savour the moment.

His wife, however, is impatient and releases a soft sigh of, " _Anakin…_ " which makes him grin stupidly, because she _wants_ him. It strokes his proud male ego.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he teases her, making her squirm and huff before him.

And then, she says the most arousing thing he's ever heard in his life. "I want you, Ani." It's soft and timid and shy, and yet it stirs the most _powerful_ of reactions inside him. In response, he grips the sides of her gown and deftly slides it down the supple curves of her hips until it pools at her feet in a swish of expensive silk. He takes a moment to admire the perfectly formed curves of her backside and her shapely, slender legs, before he stands back up and takes her in his arms, pressing himself flush against her and nuzzling into her neck.

A low, sensual chuckle reverberates from her body to his as she feels the prominent evidence of his _need_ pressing against her back, and she turns once more in his arms and rests her hands on his lean hips. Sneaking a glance between them, Anakin bites his lip at the sight of his rigid, straining length jutting out against her stomach, he is incredibly ashamed by his body's reactions to her. But Padmé, it seems, is _far_ from embarrassed, as she follows his gaze and smiles, cocking her head to the side just a little. "It seems you want me too, my love," she observes, and then wraps her warm hand around him, making him thrust unconsciously into her touch.

" _Padmé…_ " he issues a low moan, and his eyes flutter closed. Just the _feel_ of her small, warm hand around him is enough for him to throb and twitch, already leaking for her. She laughs huskily and slowly stokes him, making him weak at the knees. He's not good with self-control – not _yet_ – and she's going to make him release too soon… before he's even inside her. He can't let that happen. It's their wedding night! He needs to be able to last! " _P_ - _please_ …" he begs her, voice thick and strained with desire. "I can't…won't be able to…" His legs shaking, knees feeling weak from the effort of holding back, he braces his legs apart and places his hands on her shoulders to steady himself.

But, his wife ignores him. "Shhhh," she soothes him softly. " _Trust_ _me_ , _Ani_." She kisses him sweetly, first on his lips, and then down, down his neck, down his chest and abdomen, following the line of blonde hair that leads to his groin, all the while continuing her slow, exquisite torture along his length with her skilful hand. By this stage, he's a quivering mess. When she skims her nose over his short, blonde nest of curls, inhaling his masculine scent deeply, he _almost_ loses it, and has to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, to keep his control. It doesn't, however, stop the low rumbling groan he emits from echoing loudly into the dusk.

Then, he feels the most delicious, incredible sensation he's _ever_ felt in his entire life. Warmth. _Wetness._ Right _there_ on his swollen weeping head, and he snaps his eyes open in surprise and looks down to see the most _arousing_ sight he's ever witnessed. Padmé, on her knees in front of him, lapping at his throbbing erection with her little pink tongue. _"Oh, Force,_ " he curses, his flesh hand automatically flying into her hair against his will, tangling itself in her curls.

Padmé hums against him, making him buck his hips, seeking his release. He's not sure what he wants, but he _needs_ something...friction, suction, _anything._ What is she doing to him? Is she trying to kill him? He's barely containing himself, trying so _fucking_ hard **not** to release himself all over her angelic face, but she's not making it easy for him. Anakin is only nineteen, and until yesterday, was a virgin, whose only previous relief came from his own hand. But, _her_ hand and _her_ mouth are _so_ much better than anything he could ever do himself. He's seconds away from coming undone.

"P-P…" he stutters incoherently, head thrown back, eyes once again closed, fingers tangled in her chestnut tresses, unable to even speak her name, because he feels _it_. It's coming, and he can't stop it. Her _mouth_. She's put her lips around him, and he's flying…he's left the ground, no longer in control of his own body. She suckles his head with firm pressure, her tongue flicking rapidly across the sensitive tip, causing him to begin bucking his hips into her mouth, and he feels his balls tighten and rise up, and suddenly, he shudders and lets out a deep, masculine roar as white hot pleasure surges through 's coming, then, fast, _hard_ , wave after wave, and he doesn't even have the _awareness_ to be embarrassed by it, because he's too absorbed in the intense _pleasure_ coursing through him. His legs shake, his buttocks clench, and he rolls his head side to side, eyes fluttering madly beneath his closed lids, and he almost blacks out for a few seconds. It's _glorious!_

When he eventually comes to, he suddenly freezes in terror and hurriedly glances down at the angel kneeling between his legs, mortified at what he's just done. "Padmé… I'm so – " he goes to say, cheeks flushing red, when he sees her smiling up at him with dark, lusty eyes, her tongue flicking out to lick around the edges of her mouth, all the while keeping her eyes locked on his. At first, he wonders what happened, _how_ she managed to clean herself up so quickly, until it hits him as to what's occurred. She _swallowed_ him!

Anakin can't _believe_ it. All he can do is stare down at her with wide, awed eyes, his mouth slightly open. The knowledge that she _drank_ his seed… _willingly, wantonly…_ is so completely _erotic_ to him, that his limp cock twitches just a little, resurrecting itself. " _You_... _you_ _just_...?"

Padmé nods her head shyly and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You don't taste as bad as I thought you would, Ani," she informs him, matter-of-factly, and it's _too_ much for him.

He lifts her up none-to-gently and crushes his mouth against hers, expressing what he's feeling physically as he's unable to explain it verbally. While he devours her mouth with lust-fuelled passion, his hands wander down to cup her backside, lifting and hauling her up into his arms. Her legs come up to wrap around his waist, and her hands clasp the back of his head as he mates his starving tongue with hers. " _You're… beyond… extraordinary…"_ he praises her through messy kisses. _"I… love… you…,"_ and her response is to mewl and whimper into his mouth as he walks them back towards the bed.

Without breaking their kiss, Anakin lays her down in the middle of the bed and crawls on top of her, hands exploring every exposed inch of her silken skin. He wants to make _her_ feel how she's just made _him_ feel… _weightless_ with esctatic pleasure. All former trepidation has left him, replaced with ravenous hunger to taste her, and he does just that, sliding his lips down her neck to nip and suck and mark the slender column of her throat as _his_ flesh and cups her left breast through her lacy bra, thumbing the puckered peak. A predatory animalistic rumble issues forth from his parted lips, his eyes almost black with desire, and he leans over her, reaching beneath her with his hands to unclasp her strapless bra. Peeling it gently away from her heaving bosom, he tosses it over his shoulder. He takes her hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinches it sharply, making her gasp and arch into his hand, her back bowing elegantly off the bed, eager for more of his touch. Scraping his teeth along the angle of her collarbone, he quickly bends his neck to capture her neglected nipple, suckling on it fervently, eliciting more of those high, feminine gasps from her pretty, kiss-swollen lips. Anakin _loves_ it… loves that _he -_ and _only_ he- is the cause of such heights of pleasure, that she is writhing on the bed because of _him._ He will risk his life every day to make her cry out _his_ name like this, he _swears_ it.

Deciding to throw caution to wind, for Padmé certainly held back nothing, he continues to massage and suckle her breasts and nipples, while reaching out with the Force to slide her lace panties down her supple legs and ankles, mentally tossing them across the room, before slowly sliding his prosthetic hand down the flat plane of her belly, through the downy thatch of curls between her legs and then rubs gently against her slick, feminine folds, nudging her engorged clit. She shudders in his arms and squeals, her eyes fluttering open at the new sensation. " _Oh!_ " she gasps, staring at him with misty eyes through half-hooded lids. _"_ That's…so _cold…_ "

He pauses, yet doesn't remove his fingers and props himself up on his opposite elbow, staring down at her. "Is it _bad?_ "

She shakes her head and widens her legs underneath him. "N-no… it – it feels so _good_ , Ani," she whispers. "Don't… _don't stop!_ "

Grinning proudly, he ducks his head to capture her mouth in a ravishing kiss and continues to rub her clit, while his flesh hand manipulates her sensitive nipples. With careful exploration, he finds her opening and teases her gently with his index finger, making her moan and undulate her hips into his touch.

" _Please!"_ she begs, breathlessly, gripping his shoulders harshly, nails digging into his skin.

"Please, what?" he asks, blowing hot air over her face. Her responses to his ministrations have made him grow bold and confident, and he decides to take it in his stride. "What do you want, my angel?"

She bites down hard on her lip, a deep crimson flush rising in her cheeks and down her neck. " _You_ , Anakin…" she mutters in embarrassment. "I want _you_ … _inside me…_ "

Hearing her say those words makes his semi-hard cock spring to life again, and he kisses her deeply, tongue licking into her mouth and obliges her wanton request. As soon as he slides one long, cold metal finger inside her hot, velvet heat, she exhales and closes her eyes, bucking her hips to encourage him to move. So, move he does. Keeping his flesh hand on her left breast, pinching and tweaking her nipple, he licks at her navel and continues to pump his finger in and out of her, relishing in the erotic sounds she's making. At her aggressive insistence of, _"More, Ani_ ," he quickly adds another finger and reaches out with the Force, letting her sensations wash over him, guiding him with what she wants, what she so desperately desires yet can't articulate. When he curls his fingers against the sensitive, spongy slickness of her sweet spot, she all but falls apart then and there, biting down hard on her lip and arching her back once more, soft grunts of pleasure escaping her. He strokes her gently there, coaxing her closer and closer to her approaching orgasm, then bends and sucks hard on her nipple, just as he presses down firmly on her clit, circling her tip with his metal thumb.

With a sharp cry, she comes undone, her walls spasming and fluttering around his fingers, coating them in her arousal, and he simply sits up and watches her. She's so _beautiful_ , the way her eyes flicker madly beneath her closed lips, the way her red lips are parted, the way her luxurious chestnut hair spills out all around her, her legs shaking as waves of pleasure wash over her, the way her back is arched off the bed...it's a wonder she's not hit the ceiling with the force of her orgasm. And it's all because of _him._

It's several moments before she relaxes, and she slumps back onto the mattress and opens her eyes, grinning lazily up at him. Her hand comes up to stroke his jaw fondly, and she brings him down to her mouth, their lips and tongues mating languidly, intimately, conveying the love they feel for each other. It's not long, however, until their kiss becomes more heated. If Anakin had thought that giving his wife such an intense orgasm would satisfy her, he is wrong. If anything, it's only made her _hungrier_ for him. She pants and mewls into his mouth as her hands skim down his spine to fill with the firm, smooth muscles of his buttocks, and she kneads the flesh gently and splays her legs wider underneath him. " _Ani…_ " she calls him name softly and reaches down to grip the base of his once-again hard cock, guiding him towards her slick entrance. He instinctively grinds himself along her wetness, closing his eyes at the delightful sensation. " _I need you, my love._ "

Her words spur him on, but he hesitates and peers down at her, concern crossing his expression. He doesn't want to hurt her again. Not like last time. He couldn't _bear_ to cause her pain, not again. She deserves _perfection._ Anakin cups her beautiful face in his hands and rubs his thumb against her bruised lips, swollen from his kisses. "I'll hurt you, Padmé," he confesses, shamefully. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Tears prick at her eyes, and suddenly, she is kissing him again, fiercely, desperately, clutching his face with such unbridled passion that Anakin can't help but dissolve into it. She tends to have that affect on him, can make all his worries disappear with just the smallest touch. "Oh, Anakin," she sobs into his mouth. "You _won't…_ " She pulls back and blinks up at him, her gorgeous brown eyes clouded with lust and _adoration._ "You won't hurt me, Ani. I promise. I'm ready. I want you…I _need you…_ I need to feel you _inside me_ , again."

She's so confident and sure, but still, Anakin is hesitant. He plays with her hair absently and bends to press his forehead against hers, never taking his eyes off hers for a second. "Are you sure?" he asks. Just this morning, she was still sore and tender from their lovemaking the night before, and he wants to make _sure_ that she is fully ready for this.

"Yes," Padmé nods her head and stretches out her neck to gently brush her lips to his. "I want _you,_ Anakin."

"Oh – okay," he mutters and takes her bottom lip between his own, as he braces himself between her thighs and he slowly eases himself inside her. He has to stop when he's about halfway in, because her deliciously tight, wet heat is just _too_ much for him, and he needs to compose himself if he's going to last longer than ten seconds. Exhaling deeply, he closes his eyes in concentration and inches slowly forward, further inside her welcoming walls until his hips are pressed right up against hers. Padmé strokes his hair softly, tugging on his padawan braid, whispering to him sweetly, encouraging him to move inside her, and so he does. The slick friction is _overwhelming_ , she feels like nothing else. He would stay buried deep inside her forever if it was physically possible, and he _never_ wants to leave.

Padmé is breathing heavily beneath him, and he halts his slow thrusts to peer down at her and make sure she's okay. "Is this… is this alright?" he asks seriously.

With her eyes still closed, she slowly nods her head. "Y-yeah…" she whispers softly. "You feel good inside me, now… _so good,_ Ani." A pleased smile breaks across his lips at her praise.

Kissing her gently, he resumes his movements, taking his sweet time, letting her feel every inch of him, as he is feeling every inch of her in return. There's no rush…it's their wedding night. They have all the time in the universe, and Anakin plans on using it. Padmé talks to him the entire time in hushed whispers, praising him, telling him how good _he_ feels, how good he's making _her_ feel, how _happy_ she is and how much she loves him, and it only increases Anakin's own pleasure, but he does his best to hold back, for her sake. All he wants is to please her, and if that means postponing his own release for _hers,_ then he'll do it, again and again and again until she's satisfied. He loves her.

She gently tugs on his braid again and pulls him down so his face his buried in the side of her neck, and she turns her head to press a line of sweet kisses under the base of his ear, as her fingers dance whisper soft touches over his shoulders, upper arms, and back. Anakin enjoys those touches just as much as he enjoys being inside her, it's a physical affirmation of her love for him.

" _Padmé…_ " he murmurs her name, muffled against her hair as he unconsciously increases the depth and power of his thrusts, driving into her slick core with more force as his arousal sparks once more, the pleasure slowly building inside him. She grips his shoulders tightly and brings her legs up to wrap around his waist, her heels digging into his clenching buttocks as he moves inside her, grunting into her skin. "So good… ugh...so tight… _ **mine**_ _...love you._ "

" _Yeah, Ani…_ " she replies airily, her voice quivering with lust. " _Yours."_ His fists clench into the sheets, his elbows braced beside her head as he thrusts harder, _deeper,_ until she suddenly cries out with sheer pleasure – he can feel it projecting out of her Force signature so brightly. _Yes!_ He's found it, her sweet spot, and he grins with supreme satisfaction, as he continues to nudge her there with the head of his cock, making her gasp and moan and all but sob in ecstasy, as she throws her head back and arches off the bed, thrusting her puckered nipples against his chest. Each time he thrusts, her walls constrict tightly around him, causing him to shudder above her.

" _Harder, Ani… harder,"_ she begs him, and if he had any qualms about hurting her before, they're tossed aside, as he does as she asks, snapping his hips forward sharply, the slick sound of their skin slapping together on each thrust filling the air. They're both panting and groaning, each covered in sweat, as the pleasure and pressure continues to build, and Anakin can't help but dip once more into her Force signature and surround himself in her _fully_ , bask in her euphoria. It's electrifying, and _he's_ the cause of such intense emotions.

Suddenly, it all becomes too much for him, and he can't hold back anymore. His thrusts become wilder, as he slams his hips forward again and again, pinning her to the bed beneath him, and he groans lowly in her ear as he chases his own release, bringing Padmé with him. Her own breathy cries join his as she undulates her own hips to meet him halfway. Anakin is so close, he can _feel_ it, but he doesn't want to let go until Padmé does, so he decides to raise the stakes. Removing his metal hand from beside her head, he once more plunges between her legs and rubs furious circles on her sensitive clit, just above where they're joined. Her slickness coats his fingers, and the cool metal makes her issue his name loudly into the early evening. He continues to manipulate her, all the while pressing his cock repeatedly against her sweet spot, and it's not long before she seizes up, her body tensing and arching off the bed, and she moans, a long, drawn out cry of his name shatters the stillness of the night.

The mad fluttering of her walls around his hard throbbing cock is all he needs to burst forth inside her with a violent eruption of his essence, accompanied by a deep masculine roar, his hips surging forward, tight and flush against hers with each ejaculation, as he coats her womanhood with his seed, a huge shudder trembling along his spine. She milks him gently, until he is completely spent, and then he pulls out of her and rolls off to the side, pulling her with him so that she's curled into his chest. They lay there, sated, chests heaving, bodies cooling, coming down slowly from their shared bliss. The scent of their love permeates the air, mingling with the floral scent of the candles, and another rumble of satisfaction crosses Anakin lips, as he curls his wife tighter against him, and turns his head to softly kiss her upturned lips.

Padmé giggles, blushing prettily, and beams up at him with misty eyes. If Anakin thought she'd looked beautiful during their wedding ceremony, he was wrong. Never has she looked more beautiful than right _now_ , happy and sated and blissfully content in his arms. He strokes her chestnut hair affectionately, letting his fingers tangle in her sweat-dampened curls and presses his lips gently between her brows.

"What are you thinking, Ani?" she asks softly, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks.

He smiles down at her. "How lucky I am to have married you," he replies as earnestly as possible.

"No," she shakes her head. "It is _I_ who is the lucky one, Anakin."

Her response makes him laugh, uninhibited and joyful. His wife is _so_ stubborn. It's one of the qualities he loves most about her. Bending his neck, he brushes his lips against her cheek. "Are you going to argue with me for the rest of our married life, beloved wife of mine?"

Smirking, she chuckles. "Only when you are wrong, dear husband."

Anakin kisses her then, cupping the back of her neck to bring her closer to his searching mouth. It's a slow kiss, full of love and a deep, deep bond to each other, one that transcends all physical desires. For their love is something far purer than that of lust or want. It just simply _is._ When they break apart, he takes her face in his hands and simply looks at her, at his wife, at how beautiful and wonderful she is. His _angel._

"Can we agree to disagree, at least?" he teases, raising an eyebrow, with a cocky half smirk on his face.

Mirth dancing in her brown eyes, she grins at him. "Yes, I think we can."

They go to embrace once more, when Padmé suddenly pushes him onto his back, so that she is sitting on his stomach. Anakin makes a small grunt of surprise at the action, at her boldness and rests his hands on the slender dip of her tiny waist. She's so gorgeous from this angle, her hair trickling down her back and over her shoulders, her perfect pert breasts bobbing gently with her every breath, the sharp glint of desire in her eyes. She bends over him, her hair fanning out like a velvet drape around his face and nips his bottom lip with her teeth.

"I think I know something we can _both_ agree on, my love."

Anakin runs his flesh hand up and down the ridges of her spine, an amused grin on his face at his wife's sudden determination. "Mmm? And, what's that?"

"That we still have many, _many_ hours left of our wedding night."

Chuckling at how insatiable she is, Anakin tightens his grip on her hip just a little. "Indeed, we _do_ , Angel."

They spent the rest of the night making love to each other until the early hours of the morning, when the sun began to appear above the horizon. Two lovers, chosen for each other and joined together forever by the Force.


End file.
